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demonicheadcanons · 4 years ago

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Obey Me Brothers + Little Affections

AN: Keep thinking about the little things each brother would do to express affection. Some warm fluffy stuff because we all need it. Enjoy!!

The hair drying one on Lucifer’s sparked this entire thing thanks

Lucifer

- Washing and drying your hair. You know if you get your hair washed at a hairdressers and they just. Go to town with a towel drying your hair? He finds it hilarious and loves doing that. You’ll hear him chuckle, unable to see him because your face is covered by the towel. He’s softer towards the end but initially when trying to get most of the excess water his only concern is not actually hurting you. He’s also genuinely trying to help, just having a little fun with it at the same time.

- Continuing on from this, Lucifer will ruffle your hair. If it doesn’t really upset you, he loves to make a mess of it, and he grins at you, your hair sticking out every which way.

- The second his brothers aren’t around, he seems to canonically love holding your hand under the guise of keeping track of you or comforting you. Its partially true - the MC gets into trouble easily, so its good to keep a hand on them. However, the comforting affect goes both ways.

- Sharing information with you implies a close bond (or at the very least, a strong curiosity, like when he hints at where Mammon’s card is / when he talks about the album) and it means Luci cares about you a lot. He likes to talk about his interests and introduce you to things he cares a lot about. A lot of the time this comes in the form of music, because it’s something he’s able to enjoy whilst still doing his work.

- Doing origami or other paper crafts together? Really relaxes him. It’s so peacefully intimate and cosy. You sit together at his desk, work documents hidden out of sight for now, and make whatever you can out of colourful little bits of paper. He likes making flowers, although he’d never say it out loud, but he makes you countless crowns with paper flowers of all different kinds. You walk in one day when he’s taking a break from work and he’s got paper cranes lining the entire length of his desk. He calls you over and puts one on your head for absolutely no reason before acting like it never happened.

- If no one else is around and he’s feeling a bit daft, he’ll sweep you up into his arms with no warning and just hold you like that, staring directly into your eyes with a daring and loving smile on his face. This happens most when it’s late at night and all the coffee he’s had is starting to wear off and he feels a little more relaxed and open. He’ll carry you to his room to cuddle, too, if you don’t have anywhere else you need to be. Just pray none of his brothers encounter you two because he’ll set you down on your feet immediately and he won’t help you up if you fall.

[[Other Brothers under the read more]]

Mammon

- Fist bumps!!! He passes you and holds his fist out, and pouts if you don’t immediately bump your hand into his. Do the snail or turkey thing once and he falls in love with it. Lucifer, tired and stressed after a lot of work, decides for once to go along with giving him a fist bump because he’s too tired and no one else is around, and Mammon does the snail thing. The look on Luci’s face is worth everything that happened after. But when its you, Mammon just smiles and beams at you. He’s really happy.

- Sitting so close together that you can’t possibly move without disturbing the other. Sides fully pressed together even if he doesn’t have an arm around you or your hand in his. He likes the constant contact, it’s healing. So heavily invested in whatever you’re watching that the two of you simply don’t realise how close you are until the episode ends and you realise you’re leaning your full weight against him and his face is red but he’s smiling so softly you can’t bring yourself to move.

- You’ll have to start the habit, but, tackle hugs. You see him in the distance somewhere and sprint over and tackle him full force. He’ll act mad at first, especially if he trips and falls over or he’d been talking with someone else, but he holds onto you tightly and his face is beautifully flushed. After a while he’ll do it too, although he’s a lot gentler, but if you hear him call your name you need to turn around quickly and hold your arms out. He’ll lift you up into the air and twirl you around once or twice before just, going on with his day as normal. You hear his laughter as he walks away, bright and bubbly and confident, exactly as he should be.

- The absence of insults is important for Mammon. He’ll tolerate it if it’s every now and then but he’ll really notice if you’re always kind to him, he pays attention and holds tightly on to every compliment you give him. When he feels low he finds you and holds you in his arms, fingers playing with the loops in your jeans, as he recites off every nice thing you’ve said to him, hoping you’ll reaffirm them. Did you mean it when you said he was one of the most caring people you’d ever met? When you said his eyes made you feel at home?

- He likes feeding the crows with you. It’s something he does without telling anyone, but one day he takes you out along with him and the crows take a liking to you instantly. He likes how you look with his crows standing proud and confident on your arm, your hair a mess from their flapping wings as you laugh and try to get the last bits of food out from the bag.

- If you style his hair and put random accessories in it - anything from silly plastic hair clips to flowers to feathers - he’ll keep them in all day. He doesn’t care who sees because his MC spent their time doing this for him, and he’s happy to tell anyone who dares criticise him.

Leviathan

- He’s awkward with any affection at first, but he actually builds up to quick tight hugs when he’s really happy. If he’s incredibly excited - just won tickets for something, or some idol liked his comments - expect to be tackled in a hug. He gets flustered after, but if you hold tightly onto him he won’t let go immediately.

- If they even vaguely relate to his own interests, Levi will try hard to be invested in anything you really enjoy. For example, he’ll watch your favourite shows with you or try and read things you enjoy, etc.

- At the same time, Levi will share his interests with you. It’s not something he can really avoid doing as it’s ingrained in him to ramble about his special interests, but it will come in seemingly smaller forms - for example, he’ll hand you his headphones one day, blushing, and ask what you think of this song, or he’ll show you a paragraph in a TSL book that has particularly good rhythm or evokes a lot of emotion. If he lends you his books or DVDs it’s practically a proposal.

- You two have full conversations with Henry as he swims about in his tank. About silly and pointless things or very serious topics, from jokingly scolding him to venting about the future and about school and such. It warms Levi’s heart.

- Horn pats. When he’s in his demon form, pull him down to your level and pat his horns. He’s so flustered he can’t move the first few times, but one day he’ll start coming up to you and asking you if you want to do it. He likes being able to be in his demon form, and likes that you’re comfortable with him even when he doesn’t look as human.

- When he’s very comfortable with you, he likes to wrap you up in surprise hugs and laughs if you try to squirm your way out of his grip, a brilliant mischievous glow in his eyes, any self-consciousness long forgotten.

Satan

- I’ve said this before on another post but Satan likes to pet your hair and run his thumbs over your palms, pressing into them gently like he’s touching the pads on the paws of a cat. He traces circles and presses kisses into your palm and over each finger tip and knuckle, like it’s his own form of worship.

- It takes a long time to build up the confidence to do so but I can see him like. Playfully nipping at your skin if he presses light kisses against your shoulders or neck. If it makes you laugh or blush he smiles against your skin.

- If you fall asleep somewhere he’s the first person to go get a blanket to throw over you - he’d rather just let you sleep if you’re somewhere safe instead of disturbing you to lift you elsewhere, and risking waking you up. Occasionally he’ll kneel down beside you and stay there with a book until you wake up, and he’s fallen asleep like that once or twice.

- Just. Talking. Laying down together and going from topic to topic, saying whatever crosses your minds with no filters and no judgement. Letting time pass by with the comfort of the other, laying on your back in the planetarium or library or in his room, wherever there aren’t books piled up. No responsibilities except to listen to the other, and every now and then you laugh and he feels like maybe this could be home.

Asmodeus

- Sharing things, whatever it is. Food, clothes, jewellery. Taking a necklace off and putting it on him because “this would go so well with your outfit,” or holding out your fork and telling him to try some of your food, it tastes heavenly. Perfume, as well, is a must - he wants the two of you to smell the same.

- Like Mammon, he likes to have some kind of contact with you at all time - holding hands, an arm across your shoulders, anything. But the main point of contact he truly adores is if he has his hands on the skin of your stomach or back, even in the most innocent way possible. If his arms are around you and you’re comfortable with it, he’ll tuck his hands under your shirt and trace shapes against your hips, stomach, back, lower ribcage. Wherever he can. It’s something he’ll do absentmindedly without everything thinking about it, and it recharges him when he’s low on energy.

- He actually really likes working alongside you, whether it’s school work or something related to a part time job, or a potential business idea. He’s smarter than anyone would give him credit for and he loves how you look when you’re deep in thought, trying to solve something, and how your eyes light up as you figure it all out. He’s not one to just give you the answer to things, so if he knows something and you don’t he likes to hint at it like it’s a game. When you guess the answer right he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose and beams at you.

- Late night phone calls where you talk about whatever’s keeping you awake. He doesn’t mind who’s calling who, he wants to ramble or listen to you at any given moment and he’ll give up his sleep if it means you can get something that’s bothering you off your chest. Similarly, there is no greater comfort for him than getting to complain to you about something or other, something that’s genuinely bothering him and that’s stuck in his head. He feels like it only disappears when you take a hold of it for him for a little bit.

Beelzebub

- Sharing food, obviously, means a lot to him. Feed him bites of your food, give him anything you don’t want, and he’ll love it. He especially loves if you share food that’s important to you in some way, and you’ll find him giving you little bites of his food too the closer you two get. It means a lot to him when people embrace the fact that he eats so much, instead of scolding him for it or making jokes about it.

- He really likes holding hands. Your hands are so small in his and yet you trust him not to injure them as you pull him along. He feels possessive sometimes but isn’t outwardly affectionate enough to do anything about it, and the last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable. It’s the perfect thing for him.

- Stacking random things on the other. Sitting cross-legged in a park, pulling daisies out of the lawn that’s about to be mowed anyway and gently placing them into each other’s hair, on the other’s shoulders and laps. If you’re laying in his bed he’ll take random light objects off his night stand and place them on top of you. There’s no purpose and no intention, and yet it makes him smile and gives him butterflies, and he laughs if you glare jokingly up at him but let him continue.

- Run your hands through his hair, down the sides of his face, under his jaw. Anywhere. He melts in an instant, mouth slightly open as you poke his cheeks or tickle his neck and shoulders with feather light touches.

Belphegor

- Nap. On. Him. Any time, any where. Snuggle up to him, lean your head against his shoulder or bury your face into his neck or lay down on his lap and just rest. He blushes every time and it takes him a second to recover. Sometimes he’ll angle himself so he can lean against you two and he’ll fall asleep as well.

- He likes those kind of monkey hugs where you wrap your entire body around him and he can bury his face in your neck and hold on as tight as he wants. He’ll walk around like that until you get to the attic and he can throw you into his pile of pillows and blankets, and he flops down on top of you and clings onto you again, trying to hide his face because he’s smiling so wide his cheeks hurt.

- He loves playful, back and forth banter. He’ll tease you constantly, loves if you pout at him, loves it more if you retort with something and keep it running for a while before the two of you start laughing.

- Being childish. He’ll stick out his tongue at you or pull a sudden face and he expects you to do it back immediately. If you don’t he’ll poke and tickle you, telling you how disappointed and hurt he is.

- Headbumps! But not too hard. Gently bump your head against his shoulder to get his attention and he’ll pat it. Bonus points if you nuzzle into his hands then - he’s hard to fluster but you can hear him swallow as he starts to go red. You’ll immediately have all of his attention to yourself.

- Belphie is the king of silent conversations. The tiniest gestures, nods, tilts of the head. He can pick up on all of them, knows exactly what you’re trying to say without you saying it, to the point where sometimes you won’t even realise you’re not talking aloud.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me Satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #I might do more later but this is all I can think of right now #obey me headcanons #my headcanons #my writings #queued #there are little bits of angst if you squint hard enough

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vercopaanir · 5 years ago

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Keep Up

The Lovely Moons, Chapter 1

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Blind!Reader

Warnings: Nothing!

Word Count: 4.4k (Pt 1/2)

A/N: First official installment of this series. This takes place before Don’t Go Far. Thank you so much who read and left me comments. I’m very touched. I wanted to really take some time with exploring a blind character who shares non-verbal similarities to the Mandalorian, and other ways of communication beyond eye contact. Anyway, thank you for taking the time to read it!

From the direction of the noise, you know you stand closer to the strange visitor, and you quietly set the tray down on the table between them. Your hands are confident, and your face is unflinching in the repetitive movements of serving, staring straight ahead even when the owner’s hand strikes out and grabs your arm with a meaty fist. You suck in a breath and go still.

“Unless you’re willing to pay a premium price,” his rocky voice chuckles across the table, nearly vibrating in your chest. “I can only imagine what kinds of uses a blind servant can have for someone like you.”

When you laid awake at night, you hadn’t considered your fate would be determined by handfuls of imperial credits. That your life hung in the balance between payments exchanged underhandedly in the back corners of the crowded cantina over watered down drinks became more believable, though, the longer you lasted in servitude. It was easier if you thought yourself not human, not one of the patrons who’s gazes followed your movements.

You couldn’t see them, but you could feel them.

It somehow made it a little worse to your pride just the same, and a lot harder to ignore.

You would never be called a slave out in the open, because you knew the ramifications of such an error in this place. Others working alongside you knew, too, so not only did they try not to talk about you, but they avoided you at all cost. The laws of slavery were a prickly topic for some people, and those around you didn’t want to chance unhappy customers by a small slip of the tongue. You weren’t quite far enough in the outer rim to escape even honor, it seemed.

So, at night, you would think of your old life that was gentle and kind, and you’d pretend that you were still in your old room, in your old bed.

It wasn’t the hardest existence, you’d give them that. They treated you like some otherworldly thing, a blind woman who could wait tables and fetch drinks. As if a disability was a personality trait. Men’s underestimation typically worked in your favor, and you had learned that lesson well. It was not unheard of for workers to be punished for missteps, and you found it easy to claim the fault as your own. The wilting flower was not so far from the truth, once, and when you ducked your head and clasped your hands in apology, no one was made an example of.

As far as organic lives went, you were expensive. Not more than a droid, you figured, but still worth enough not to deal damage to, and anything that damaged the worth of property wouldn’t be tolerated. That was a bit of armor you savored wearing.

You stood near the bar using a rag to clean glasses. You couldn’t quite make out a lot inside the cantina, as it tended to be darker, but your impaired vision did afford you shapes and shadows. With more light, you would be able to make out more, but since arriving on this dusty little rock of a planet months ago, you didn’t feel motivated to exactly acclimate. You simply listened to the dull thrum of life around you, conversations rising and swelling, the clatter of glass and the slosh of drink. When the door would open, fresh air and light would blow in with bits of sand in the wind, and you could taste the dry climate sticking in your mouth.

Stacking the next glass carefully on the back of the bar, you became aware of someone coming to stand across from you. They didn’t speak, simply stood at the bar, and you wondered where the other girl was that usually took drink orders. A prickle rose up on the back of your neck the longer the stranger stood across from you, and you carefully refolded the rag in your hands, inclining your head upwards to the shadow.

“I’m looking for someone,” said the newcomer, his voice low and pleasantly modulated. Your eyebrows rose, and you hid a grimace when he spoke the owner’s name.

Never a good sign.

You paused, thinking of the back, dingy rooms where the man in question usually haunted, and you took a deep breath. “I can find him,” you answered levelly. You paused, laying a hand on the edge of the bar before turning away. “May I get you anything while you wait?”

There was a beat before he said, “No...thank you.”

Manners, you admired with a small smile. You nodded once and turned, but at the same time the absent barkeep in question came stumbling out from the back, knocking into you and overturning nearly every glass you’d managed to clean. It was such an epic sweep, you’d think later, that you still weren’t sure how she managed to break so many things and retain a job.

Both of you went down like rocks and sprawled across the floor, shattered glass dusting your robes and laying like invisible teeth on the ground. You sat up, cringing when you could feel sharp pricks through the fabric of your clothes.

“Are you alright?” you ask, reaching out a hand to the girl. You can make out her shape, though she can’t seem to be still.

“He’s going to end me for this!” she hissed, her voice laced with anger and shame, and the two of you begin sweeping the glass up hurriedly with your hands.

“Blame it on me,” you mutter, wincing when a shard pricks your palm. You pull yourself up by the bar, sweeping more of it with the sole of your boot to make a pathway.

“I can’t do that.”

“You can, and you will,” you answer primly, turning and grappling for a serving tray. You pile the glass on it and begin chucking it into the trash. “Go find him, leave the mess with me.”

“But-”

“He has someone waiting for him.” Your whisper must draw her eyes up, and you nod your head to the side where you know the newcomer still stands on the other side of the bar. You’re not quite sure what makes her scramble away so quickly, but you’re grateful she does. As well-meaning as the girl is, you doubt she’ll last much longer in an establishment where she’s constantly underfoot.

You dust away as much glass as you can so you can kneel without impaling your knees, then reach up onto the bar for the rag you’d had. There’s a moment where you feel nothing but smooth wood, until a gloved hand bumps into yours. You freeze, blinking, but then the rag is pressed under your fingers.

For some reason, the silent help makes you smile.

“Thank you,” you murmur and duck back down to use the rag to sweep glass up onto the tray. You can hear when the girl and the owner return, for he’s painfully loud and obnoxious to boot. The barkeep seems to be trying to explain away the accident with the glasses quickly and distract him with the fact he has a visitor, and she’s lucky he’s simple because it works like a charm.

You don’t quite catch what he says under his breath, but you flinch back when he kicks some glass behind the bar, almost hitting you in the face. You turn quickly, brushing it off and growing irate. This isn’t how you wanted your day to go, kneeling on the filthy floor and dumping the tray into the trash again.

“Mando, good to see you in these parts again. Come with me.”

You rise up once they’re gone, sighing deeply and feeling tense. All the chaos that typically clamored in a cantina wasn’t good for your nerves or patience, you decided, tossing the rag in a bin to be cleaned later. You fetch a broom, now that the barkeep has returned and begins taking orders, and you sweep the floor so no one will step on any wayward glass. The chore is nearly done when she returns, sliding a tray towards you.

“Take it to the boss and the Mandalorian.”

Frowning, you slowly set the broom aside and turn to the tray, feeling the drinks to make sure they’re balanced before you lift it up. A Mandalorian. That would explain the modulated helmet, you supposed. You try to think of what you’d heard of them in the past, what you had read. If you remembered it right, they didn’t remove their face coverings in public, so the drink seemed...inappropriate.

Possibly even rude.

Moving with care, you thread the needle of tables and patrons, their shapes and shadows blending before your pale eyes. You follow the sound of the owner’s voice, loud and barking, and you only hesitate once.

“...not for sale.”

From the direction of the noise, you know you stand closer to the strange visitor, and you quietly set the tray down on the table between them. Your hands are confident and your face is unflinching in the repetitive movements of serving, staring straight ahead even when the owner’s hand strikes out and grabs your arm with a meaty fist. You suck in a breath and go still.

This was not the first time he’d implied such things, and it was not the first time you’d had to school your face from cringing over the alcohol you served. Ire simmered in your breast, and bile threatened to burn the inside of your mouth, just the same.

A terse, modulated voice crossed the table in a quiet mutter. “Let her go.”

You swallowed as the fingers tightened around your wrist before they vanished completely, and you did everything in your power not to snatch your hand back. You let your arms fall to your sides, controlling every tense muscle, and curled your fingers at your sides. The silence that follows is cold and unforgiving, but you feel hot with embarrassment.

The quiet sing of steel signals the Mandalorian standing from the table. You expect something more explosive, for the owner’s rudeness, but perhaps it wasn’t worth it to someone like him. Starting fights in bars with small minded men at the edge of the rim probably wasn’t on his to-do list, you imagined.

You listen for the retreating sound of boots against the floor, but it doesn’t come. Instead, there is a firm clunk that hits the table in front of you, and suddenly all the heat that was blooming in your face drains.

“You can’t be serious,” the owner laughs, but the visitor says nothing. “This is a third of what I am owed for keeping her, much less buying her.”

“And you won’t find anyone else with the credits to make a better offer,” the Mandalorian answers shortly, impatience now evident through the modulator of his helmet. He leans down near the table, and you think he must be intimidating a sight to shut the owner up so quickly. “Not from anyone with a taste for it.”

Sickness curls in your belly as the moment stretches into silence, time keeping you hostage as the two men stare each other down. It must be difficult trying to glare at someone’s face you can’t see, you think, when you’re not used to it. The thought is ludicrous, but it’s distracting enough to keep you from falling apart in the middle of the crowded cantina while you’re being traded like cargo.

The quiet clatter of the credits inside a pouch is retracted from the table, and a lump grows in your throat as you realize you’ve just been bought. Paid for.

It never felt like something that would happen, not again.

“Get out,” the owner snaps, and you flinch at the words so ruthlessly directed towards you when you’d been ignored up until then. It was enough to make you take a step back, against your better judgment, but the Mandalorian was behind you and seemed to be made entirely of steel and iron.

“You forgetting something?”

You hear a growl from the man still seated at the table before he tosses something onto the table, letting it clatter. You feel the man behind you tense before he carefully tucks away whatever was just exchanged. Your mind was reeling, trying to keep up with all the details.

Swallowing, you’re almost too nervous to move when boot steps begin walking away. The cantina’s noises swell around you, and it occurs to you that you’ll never have to step foot into the crowded, dirty establishment again.

You scramble to catch up with the man who just traded credits for your life, fighting past patrons and listening for the sound of armor. It’s a quiet slide of steel that would almost be drowned out by everything else if you weren’t paying attention. Stepping outside into the bright sunlight makes you wince, having been so used to the dingy shade of the bar, but you can see the Mandalorian’s own shadow fully for the first time.

Standing a few inches taller than yourself, his shape isn’t as bulky as you expected. It’s broad, in your sight, and even though there’s a hum and bustle of people coming and going all around you, he stands completely still.

“Keep up.”

Then he’s walking off again, and you’re hurrying after him. The few inches he has on you has you huffing to keep up, and you’re so focused on not losing him in the crowd that you don’t have time to be overwhelmed by all the smells and sounds of the market. The sun is bright enough you can keep his shadow in your line of sight, and you’re grateful he doesn’t try to guide you by the hand. It feels like a small but precious dignity to stretch your legs and taste dust and dry air without feeling like you’re being led on a leash.

It’s when you pass from the market, then the city, that the noises of other organic life seem to fade, and all you can hear is the wind and the whipping of your robes and his cloak.

Suddenly, he stops and turns towards you. Heart climbing into your throat, you curl your hands at your sides and ready for the worst, but what happens next is unexpected.

“I didn’t...did you leave...things behind?”

What?

Your face must betray your confusion, because he goes on. “Back there. Did you...you didn’t bring anything with you.”

You think of the spare dress you were allotted that felt rough and scratchy against your skin, of the broken comb and the lone, threadbare ribbon you used to fix your hair whenever you had work that needed a bit more elbow grease.

You shake your head quickly, and you both stand in silence. The arid surroundings make you feel hot beneath your clothes, and you wish you could gauge what he was thinking. Most people talk...well, most people tend to run their mouths around you. As if you needed everything narrated, simply because you couldn’t see.

In fact, the silence is a relief, like a balm you didn’t know you needed for a burn that you’d been ignoring for too long.

You hear him grunt under his helmet, almost too quiet for the modulator to pick up, and he turns and begins to trek again. His boots hit sand, and you follow as gracefully as you can in soft soles that weren’t meant for anything more than being indoors. It’s easy to see him now, his general shape, and you can tell when he stops and when he starts walking again, giving you a chance not to fall behind.

There’s a long stretch of time, perhaps more than an hour, where you both walk in silence. You pull the hood of your robe up over the crown of your head, the sun beginning to sting and make your eyes sore and face burn. You’re watching his boots, following the path they make, but when you look up again, a large, terrifying dark shape looms in front of you.

You must make a sound, because he turns to see you hesitating, taking a step away.

The Mandalorian seems to consider something before approaching you, and when the breeze ruffles your clothes, you can smell leather and sweat off of him.

“Hold out your hand,” he says, then adds quietly, “Please.”

There’s a shift of fabric before you feel something small and cool press into your palm. “The trigger, connected to the transmitter chip they injected when you were...bought,” he explains to your baffled expression.

The thing that could kill you instantly.

Your stomach drops and your ears begin to ring, holding the small round object in your hand. When you speak, your voice is hoarse with unshed tears. “W-Why…? What do you want me...to do with it?”

“Keep it,” he grunts, shifting his weight between his legs. “Until I can neutralize the chip.”

Your free hand drifts to your neck, blinking hard against the wind as it begins to pick up. Sand begins to dust your lashes and catch in your mouth, but his words have left your throat bone dry all on their own. “I don’t understand.” He didn’t respond, and you shake your head, dropping your sight level to where your hand holds the trigger. “Why-?”

“I don’t need a slave. I don’t want a slave.” You think you can hear a frown, somewhere behind the steel of his armor. “I need someone to help me on my ship, and I can pay you for the work.”

Confusion turns to shock, because it’s such a blow to what you thought would be a normal day that you can’t control the muscles in your body anymore. Your knees feel like they’ll buckle, and he’ll leave you there in the sand for the sad, small creature you feel like you’ve become. That this is all some kind of cruel joke.

When you don’t respond, that hesitation returns to his voice. “Unless...you wanted to stay...here.”

“No. Never.” Your lip quivers, though you don’t think you’ll cry. You hope you won’t cry. You can’t quite understand what you’re feeling, but it’s visceral and causing you to tremble like a fever.

There’s a quiet, metal tinged sigh, and you think it sounds as relieved as you feel. When he starts walking again, the muffled sound of his boots in sand change to striking against metal, and you’re careful as you step up, gingerly toeing up what seems to be a ramp. The large shadow looming ahead was a ship, you realized, only ever having boarded one once before.

When you reach the top, his voice is quiet. “There’s a step down.”

Heart thrumming in your breast, you reach out with a shaking hand to lean against the side of the door, your boots carefully settling on the metal flooring. Inside is just as dark and cold as a cave, but it’s a blessed feeling compared to the dry heat of the sun outside.

“This is yours?” you ask, pushing the hood of your robe back and feeling sand fall from the cowl. You can hear a minuscule echo of your voice inside the metal walls. He makes a noncommittal grunt in your direction, moving about in the dim lighting. You hear the flip of a switch and the ramp behind you retracts, followed by the hatch closing you in true darkness.

Your orientation blurs, and your shoulders rise to your ears with tension. You wait for some instruction or command, but neither comes. As your nerves accumulate, all the questions you should be asking-What kind of work am I to do? How are you going to neutralize a chip that could kill me? Who exactly are you?-fall by the wayside.

You hear his boots walking away again, and you wonder if he’ll ever speak at all. Is he so used to people just answering to his silent expectations he doesn’t need to? The line of thought is enough to distract you from the shock threatening to overtake your system, and you trail unsteadily after him. It’s only a few paces, and you listen as there’s a snap of fabric and a short sigh.

“You’ll sleep here.” You feel him step aside, and you blink curiously, walking forward. It doesn’t seem to be a room as much as it is a nook, a curve in the metal framework of the ship’s hull holding a bed. You lay your hand down on the carefully tucked sheets, trailing your fingers up to a blanket that’s been folded at the foot of the cot. You turn towards him, trying to think where to begin with your questions, but he goes on. “I’m going to set coordinates for our next destination. It would...be best if you stayed here.”

“...alright.” You sit down, finding the mattress plusher than you expected and sinking back. The weight off your legs has you sighing, head falling forward in relief. You listen to a slight strain of leather-perhaps he’s flexing his hands?-before you hear his footsteps begin to retreat once more.

You suspect he’s unused to company. Of organic life being so close.

Before you lose the nerve, you call softly, “Thank you.”

There is a slight pause in his stride, but he doesn’t turn back or reply. He disappears, climbing a ladder into a level above you, and you’re left alone in the cool dark.

You realize, after sitting in the quiet and listening to the engines hum to life, that your hand still cradles the trigger connecting to the chip. That’s what he’d said, hadn’t he? You swallow, fingering the small object and thinking of the procedure you’d undergone when they implanted the device at the base of your neck.

The Mandalorian said he’d neutralize it, and you wondered if there would be pain.

That didn’t scare you as much as the idea of something going wrong when he would take it out.

You don’t remember laying down on the cot, and you certainly don’t remember falling asleep. Perhaps it was the shock, but you fell unconscious into a deep, dreamless slumber, curled in the nook at an odd angle. A firm hand on your arm woke you up, and though it wasn’t a tight grasp, and he didn’t shake you, it was still unnerving. Just a solid touch, and your eyes flew open.

“We’ve landed,” he says, removing his hand and stepping back as you sit up. You blink, wishing half-heartedly there was more light to make out anything around you, but you don’t think any amount of light would have prevented the sudden dizziness you feel when you stand up. Your hand strikes outward, landing flat against the wall with a loud slap to steady yourself.

That same gloved hand cups your other elbow, and you swallow when he doesn’t let go. “The jump from hyperspace can be a lot if you’re not used to it,” he says. You don’t even remember the ship taking off, much less any kind of jump. You wait as your bearings come back to you, your weight swaying between the balance of your feet. When you don’t move, his fingers flex gently around the delicate bones of your arm.

“I...I might need...help,” you finally confess, your stomach unsettled and your head swimming lazily like fish in a pond. How long had you been asleep?

The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything, but his hand leaves your arm to lightly brush your back. You focus on breathing and begin walking forward. He guides you silently through the ship, down the ramp once he opens the hatch, and onto firmer, rocky foundation. Not unlike an anchor for a boat being tossed at sea, you don’t question how you’re able to let him guide you.

Such a thing was so...intimate. Even dangerous, being vulnerable this way. You don’t want to think about it, so you take a deep, steadying breath and begin asking questions.

The conversation is nearly one-sided from how little information he gives you, but the answers are sufficient enough. You’re on a planet called Avarla-7, which means nothing to you. You’re visiting one of his associates. You slept nearly 9 hours.

“Oh.” You listen to the crunch of rocks beneath both sets of your boots, considering the chill in the air. “It must be very late, then.” An answering hum from under the helmet is the only confirmation you receive. Something tickles at the back of your mind, and you incline your head towards the Mandalorian that walks to your left. “I...expected to be put to work rather quickly.” He doesn’t answer your vague comment, and you frown gently. “What kind of work do you need from someone like me?”

His hand presses slightly into the middle of your back, a bit firmer as you crest a small slope, giving you stability where there is none for you to find at night. “We’ll talk about it later.”

A voice calls out, wizened and deep across the expanse of dusty rocks, “I expected you back sooner. You are getting slow in your age.”

Your eyebrows raise, and you hear your companion beside you sigh again-this time in mild annoyance. You slow your steps with him, and you become aware that you have arrived near a building. Perhaps a tent, you think, with the sounds of fabric flapping in the breeze, but the noises of wandering animals nearby makes you think it’s a farm. Your curiosity heightens as you hear approaching footsteps, short and direct until someone stops in front of you.

“You have come to fetch the child, then? He has grown restless in your absence.”

A child?

The Mandalorian shifts beside you, and you think he must nod. “Yes. But I need to ask for your help again.” There’s a pause, and you can feel them staring at you. “She has a transmitter implant. Can you neutralize it?”

The associate steps closer to you, but you don’t feel threatened by the quiet approach. You fold your hands patiently, feeling steadier on your feet with the Mandalorian’s hand at your back.

“I am called Kuiil. May I have your hand?”

It is not demeaning, nor implying you need the help, and in fact you feel safer suddenly than you have in...in years. It’s hard to describe, the forthrightness and honesty in this voice that makes you feel a burgeoning amount of trust.

You hold out your hand, and the receiving grip is gentle and polite. He turns, and you follow, feeling like a young girl trailing after your father again, when you still had capricious bravery and the kindness of everyone near. Then, he says, “I will not neutralize it. I will remove it entirely. You will stay here until you are rested. I have spoken.”

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #slow burn baby i'm burnin'#romantic as heck bc i'm back on my bs

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consumeconstantly · 5 years ago

Text

Small Buff Girl Sightings Ch. 2

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ao3

It’s now the end of Damian’s first week in Paris, and everything is ready for him to transfer into Francois Dupont. He really thought he had dodged the pointless education bullet by coming to France, but of course his father wouldn’t let that slip. However, if he has to continue getting an education he doesn’t need, he will at least get something productive done during the hours of his experience; he will explore the so-called akuma class that he has read up about. One Caline Bustier’s class, the same class that the Ladyblogger is in. The same class that Marinette is in.

He hopes it’s the same as it was in Gotham, or at least similar enough. He expects his reception to be a little different, since his last name has been changed to Grayson to avoid any unwanted attention. Maybe this means that his classmates won’t try to talk to him solely for the purpose of connecting to his family. That doesn’t mean that he wants to talk to any of them. Unless they’re all like Marinette; his brief interactions with her have been bearable, bordering on pleasant. He doubts her class will be similar, though, judging by the quick sweep that he does on all of the student’s social media accounts and the hours that he’s spent on the Ladyblog. From what he has gleaned, the social situation in the akuma class leaves much to be desired. Lila Rossi, who appeared on the Ladyblog multiple times two years ago in rather ridiculous interviews that have since been taken down, seems to be the crux of the class currently. The rest of the class, other than Marinette, who hasn’t appeared in most of the group pictures that her classmates take for the past two years, seem to have little common sense.

When he walks into the classroom, there is a huddle around Lila Rossi, who sits near the front of the classroom and looks astonishingly bored as her classmates talk to her. The members of the class don’t even look up at him when he comes in, instead looking at Lila with almost cult-like devotion, despite the awful shade of lipstick that did not look good on her-- seriously, who wore orange lipstick on a day to day basis? He spares them a moment of observation, decides that he’s not going to get along with his classmates at all, then takes a seat in the back. There is only one desk that has both seats empty-- or is at least currently unoccupied, judging by the lack of items on it. The desk in question is near the back of the classroom next to an exit. He prefers this to sitting in the front, at least.

Right before class starts, a girl drops into the seat next to him, the one that’s closer to the aisle instead of the exit, but the way that she pauses for a moment makes him think that she typically sits where he is, now.

“Damian?”

What luck. Marinette is his seat partner. One of the only people in Paris that he’s talked to that seems to be fairly tolerable. With the added bonus of her being fairly intelligent and able to hold her own. There isn’t much more that he could ask for in a seatmate.

He is confused as to how such a girl is still in this seemingly god-awful class, but small blessings. He’s not going to complain about having Marinette by his side.

“Oh, you must be the transfer from America.” She pulls out a binder from her bag, sends a quick glance sent to Lila, then settles into her chair. Lila sends Marinette a look that Damian can’t quite decipher, but it’s not unfriendly. “If you want to get acquainted with the school, you can ask Lila or Alya. Lila’s the one with orange lipstick and green eyes. Alya’s the one in plaid with glasses. They’re the class president and deputy this year.”

Damian takes a few more moments to observe the class dynamics, particularly how Lila and Alya interact with those around them. The former holds a blonde boy that Damian is fairly sure is Adrien Agreste, and while he seems accustomed to having Lila hang off his arm, he doesn’t exactly look comfortable either. Lila’s eyes unsettle Damian. They look eerily similar to his mother’s, though there is much less ill intent held within them. Alya looks spineless and clingy, clearly uneducated about topics that she brings up one after another. He can’t hear what they are saying clearly from this distance, but he is certain that the small blonde girl was asking Lila to tell the story of how she saved Jagged’s kitten one more time, even though that story’s years old because Lila’s just so humble and modest and amazing. Surprisingly, Lila turns down the girl’s request, and continues to barely interact with her classmates while she continues to hold onto Adrien’s arm.

Jagged as in Jagged Stone, Damian assumes, and though he’s no fan himself, factoids about the rock star’s life have been shoved down his throat by Tim and Dick for the past five years, so how the hell could he not know that a) the star’s manager was deathly allergic and b) the star said that Fang was the best pet that could ever be and he could never want for anything more.

“You can tour me around instead.” To be completely honest, he doesn’t need a tour around the school at all; Damian did do reconnaissance before starting this mission. He knows the school’s layout like the back of his hand after pouring over maps and information about Francois Dupont. However, he is particularly interested in the dynamics of the akuma class, and he might as well get insider information while he still can.

Marinette looks at Damian appraisingly. “I don’t know about that, Damian. Lila and Alya are fine at giving tours. You’d be in capable hands.”

“Hands capable of what?” Damian can’t imagine that Lila’s claws are good for anything except skewering people who tried to disprove her seemingly outlandish tales. He almost feels bad for Adrien, then thinks better of it; he doesn’t seem that uncomfortable with Lila, he just doesn’t seem to like her hand on his arm.

Marinette laughs, softly, focusing on the group. She moves her mouth so little that if anyone looks, it will appear as though he is talking to her without response. “Very funny. Seriously, if you want a tour, ask Lila or Alya. I’m really not the best person for the job.”

The teacher comes into the room, and the students slowly disperse back into their seats.

When lunch comes around, Marinette packs her stuff up and gets out of the classroom so quickly, he wonders if she’s not some sort of athlete.

“You’re Damian, the transfer from America!” Lila puts a manicured hand on his arm, and Damian almost thinks that he sees her lick his lips as his forearm flexes at the unexpected contact. He restrains himself from his initial thought to deck her, but barely.

He takes a deep breath and gets his disgust under control. He can control himself. Alfred and Dick have spent years ensuring that he knows what a normal reaction is to someone touching him. When his eyes aren’t seeing red anymore, he turns his attention back to the hand on his arm. Her nails are the same garish orange as her lips, and it’s the case of the chicken and the egg all over again. No matter which came first, though, the color looks bad on both. Jason will say that Damian can’t criticize the girl because of his own awful sense of color coordination, but there’s a reason why he doesn’t have any color in his wardrobe besides his Robin suit.

“Come, sit with us.” Orange’s voice is nauseatingly fake.

Damian doesn’t outright refuse, but he does shake off the girl’s hand. She feels too similar to Talia up close. Her eye shape is eerily similar. She must be manipulative and cunning to have such a hold on the class. But, he might as well see exactly what the akuma class is all about.

He is escorted into the cafeteria, pushed next to Adrien, then given a lunch tray that has foods that look decidedly less than nutritious and possibly stale. At Gotham Academy, the food was always prepared by the best, so this is unusual for him.

“My name is Adrien. It’s nice to meet you.” Damian thinks the blond boy is nice enough, but he sounds tired and worn out.

Moments later, Lila comes back from the bathroom and squeezes herself between Damian and Adrien, looping her arm through Adrien’s and then attempting to do the same with Damian. But his arms are so tightly at his side, that it’s impossible for her to wiggle her hand through. Damian is glad that he trained himself to eat with both hands, and quickly takes up a fork with his left. Her laugh is high and breathy, like she’s changed her voice to sound different.

He has to say that it feels disgusting, because it feels like she’s treating him as some sort of arm candy. For the first time in his life, he actually thinks about his gender and is very glad that he was born a boy. Had he been born a girl, there is no doubt that this kind of situation may have happened more often; Damian knows he’s attractive. His mother and father both have very good genes both look wise and talent wise.

Not even ten minutes go by, and Damian sees why Marinette high-tailed it out of the classroom so quickly. He wishes that he went with her instead, though he gets the feeling that he isn’t welcome to do so.

The stories that Lila weaves for her life as of late are more convincing than the ones that his classmates have told him of her heroic deeds in the past. Damian can almost believe that they’re true-- helping out with food drives, volunteering with the Red Cross occasionally-- but he doubts the validity of any statement that comes from her mouth after finding the cache of interviews from three years ago. She’s focusing more on friends, she says as she tries to catch his arm again. She leans closer, and Damian can smell the floral perfume on her so strongly that it makes him nauseous. His mother never wore perfume. Nobody from the League of Assassins did. Perfume is something that’s traceable. After he was introduced to Gotham City, all of the women he came into contact with rarely wore perfume and when they did, it certainly wasn’t this floral fruity-fresh fragrance that Lila was drenched in.

She leans on him, and Damian’s pretty sure by the curve of the girl’s smirk and the glint in her eyes that he’s supposed to find the slight touch of her cleavage on his arm attractive. This paltry attempt at seduction is laughable. Even as a nine year old, his mother had him training against attacks like these. He was taught never to give into lust, and after living in a family like the Waynes, girls and boys alike threw themselves at him. If he wants a relationship, physical or otherwise, he can have one. He certainly doesn’t want a relationship with this Lila Rossi. Still, he doesn’t see why she has so much control over the classroom and certainly doesn’t see why Marinette is so excluded from their class.

It’s the longest hour of his life, but Damian makes it through and nearly flees for the safety of the back seat in the classroom. Nearly, but not quite.

By the time Damian gets into the room, Marinette is already sitting at the desk again. She looks up, looks at Lila who has looped her arm with Adrien’s and is smiling at Damian like a cat who got the cream. Damian reads sadness and maybe a touch of concern when she looks at Adrien.

“Lunch was awful.”

“Was it.” It’s phrased like it should be a question, but it doesn’t sound like Marinette is curious.

“You could have told me.”

Her lips purse. She’s copying notes from the last class over again, making them neater and more organized. “That’s not my place.”

“You’re my seat partner.”

“So?”

“Somehow, you seem a lot more morally righteous when you’re out on the streets.”

“That’s different. Paris is Paris; class is class. There’s a time and place for everything.”

From the cacophony near the front rises Lila’s high pitched voice. Damian thinks that she’s modulated it in order to seem more innocent, more believable. “Oh, Adrien, I’m so happy that we’re going to have dinner together with your father tonight.”

Marinette’s eyes raise from her paper. They search for Adrien. Adrien, whose shoulders are hunched in a way that speaks of tiredness and defeat. Adrien, who has eye bags that even concealer cannot fix. Adrien, who looks down at his hands and refuses to meet Marinette’s eyes and their soft, sad questions.

Slowly, Marinette’s eyes lower. She blinks at her paper, then continues copying her notes.

At the very least, Damian is glad that he’s sitting back here with the only sane person in this class. It isn’t like Damian is here to make friends anyways. It might have been helpful, but he doesn’t need other people’s help. He can manage on his own.

Scratch that, he could not manage.

Damian now understands why Hawkmoth had not been captured even though it had been three years since his appearance. Magic is really annoying.

He reports back to the Justice League that yes, the reports were true and no, he did not think it was a good idea to send anyone in yet and yes, he would continue to work on reconnaissance and figuring out who Hawkmoth was.

Despite three more akuma attacks(of increasing intensity) and hours prowling the internet, clues about Hawkmoth’s identity are few and far between. Early on in his mission brief, he was encouraged to not make contact with the Paris superheroes unless the situation got really bad and not to go patrolling the rooftops as Robin at all. They didn’t want to destress the Parisian heroes who had, at first, asked them for help, and then pleaded with them to not send anybody. All of the lack of information and lack of action gave him undue stress, more so than when he was back in Gotham. At least back there, the high stress situations he encountered would promptly be worked off by fighting a villain, sparring his brothers, or patrolling. He can’t do any of that here.

The coffee he ordered finally arrives, and he downs it in one shot, surveying the streets in front of him. Parisians are weird. His classmates have one collective brain cell that resides with the orange monstrosity, Lila, and the people he meets on the streets are way too open and friendly for people who have been terrorized by a supervillain for three years. They should be more like the citizens of Gotham-- keeping their heads down, minding their own business. Instead, he’s been approached by countless people as he wandered around the city-- unsurprisingly, mostly from girls sent by a larger pack in attempts to get his number or ask him on a date-- and also by random people who want to cheer him up. What kind of person tries to cheer up random people on the streets? Apparently it’s something that many Parisians have taken to doing, in attempts to prevent more akumas. Damian doesn’t think it’s very successful on that part, and is more just an excuse for people who want to stick their noses where they don’t belong.

Marinette is the only Parisian who was better than decent at holding her own Damian’s seen so far; in the past week, he’s stopped three bag snatchers, two stalkers, and two random fights. It’s surprisingly lively for a city that is plagued by a villain who takes advantage of strong emotions. He asks one of the people he saves why this is so.

“Well, it’s been three years. For the first year, yes, we very much lived in fear. But Ladybug and Chat Noir always come to save the day, and they told us that holding in our emotions is even more unhealthy.” This, a man he saved from his stalker. “That talk came after they fought off a stream of very strong akumas that totalled the city, all because they had been repressing their emotions until the breaking point.”

That is useful information. It definitely explains why the city is the way it was, though with the number of tourists that Paris has, he’s surprised that this hasn’t become headlining news internationally. He finds a few threads on Twitter talking about it, but most people are convinced it’s some ongoing stunt for attention. Apparently there’s a movie out about Ladybug and Chat Noir? Damian knows that Mayor Bourgeois put an initial block on information about the akumas from getting out, but that shouldn’t have stopped the Justice League from getting their hands on information about the situation in Paris. However, the teams that have been looking into the situation since they found out have had very little luck finding anything other than conspiracy theories. If Damian hadn’t seen an akuma battle with his own eyes, he’d have thought he was sent on a wild goose chase.

Damian feels a cross of pity for the Parisian superheroes and a brief moment of anger at Hawkmoth. From what he’s gathered, the Ladybug and Chat Noir are largely on their own. In that first year, there were a few other heroes in the mix-- a fox, a bee, a dragon, and a snake-- but their appearances became sparse and after a mass akumatization, they never appeared again. Ladybug and Chat Noir definitely stepped up their game in that second year, with Ladybug taking the lead so strongly that Damian isn’t sure that he can call them a pair of superheroes.

Sure, the battles end more quickly with Chat Noir there, but there are plenty of occasions where he doesn’t show up at all and other fights where he stays out of the battle entirely. Oftentimes, in the second year, both heroes looked extraordinarily tired and peaky. Then, something had changed, and Ladybug no longer seemed to be bothered. That was when Chat Noir started staying out of more and more battles, and the few times that he showed up, he always ran off first. Their media appearances, which had been rather heavy in the first year, dwindled down to a few periodic and important announcements. Other than that, they never gave more interviews to smaller blogs, like the Ladyblog. He has to say that he’s not surprised; even though Alya has taken them down, Lila’s interviews were still riddled with lies and she had posted them. Ladybug must have felt that the blog's integrity decreased.

All of this meaningless information leads him nowhere. The Ladyblog and several other news sources have contemplated Hawkmoth’s identity and purpose, but they all seem far fetched. Motivations include everything from world destruction to believing that this is all just a ploy to get Ladybug and Chat Noir media attention. There’s not even any concrete conclusion on Hawkmoth’s gender, though the majority opinion holds that he is a man.

He sees Marinette from the coffee shop windows. It’s amazing that this girl seems to be everywhere all at once. She always ends up near the akuma attacks, but he never spots her during them, which is curious. There’s only so many reliable places to hide. Today, she’s facing down some adult while holding a child behind her. The lady looks furious, red-faced and spittle flying. In contrast, Marinette looks calm and cold, and addresses the woman cordially, though not with respect.

A crowd gathers, but as in all things that might be dangerous, they form at a distance, with phone cameras at the ready. Damian joins them and watches the situation unfold.

“He’s my child. I get to decide how to discipline him.” The lady is wearing an expensive looking suit that is a little over the top. Her hair is perfectly coiffed, and her handbag costs at least two thousand dollars.

“Even if he is your child, that doesn’t mean you can hurt him like this. Mademoiselle, I suggest that we go to the police station now.”

“I don’t have time for that. This brat already cost me an hour of my time to pick him up from school because he was misbehaving, and I have to get to the office now.” The lady hisses, draws closer, ready to push Marinette and grab her child. Marinette side steps, pulling the child behind her.

“You’re a mother. Make time for your child. We are going to the police station, Mademoiselle, or I will call the police here.”

“I am one of the head managers of Silverstein and Company’s Paris branch. You are just a teenager. You have no place arguing with me over parenting tactics.”

“I am only a teen,” Marinette conceded, “But even a child knows when something is wrong and should be stopped. And abusing your child, Mademoiselle, is very clearly wrong.”

Marinette brings out her phone-- she must have the station on speed dial. Now, the woman approaches Marinette with a heavy hand, ready to slap her. The kid is hiding behind Marinette and quivering, very much afraid of his mother. He’s holding Marinette’s hand so tightly that Damian can see her fingertips have begun to turn blue.

Damian figures this is as good a time as any to intervene, so he puts himself between Marinette and the lady. Marinette backs up a little more, bends down to the kid and pats his shoulder.

“It’ll be okay,” Marinette says to the kid soothingly. She seems like the type to babysit. Good with kids, creative enough to keep them out of trouble, but with enough of a backbone to make sure they grow up right.

The police show up in record time, and Damian wonders whether Marinette has Special Privileges that make officers show up more quickly. It would make sense, since she always seems to be getting people out of trouble. Too bad she seems too much on the side of the law to ever become a vigilante. The world could use more people like her, active in helping others.

The four of them are instructed to go the police precinct; the woman says that she’ll take her car, and looks expectantly at her child, thinking that he’ll come with her. Marinette pushes the boy even further out of the woman’s view and meets the lady with a glare.

“Do you mind if we ride with you in the back, Officer?”

The three of them pile into the back of the cruiser, and Damian feels like this is some sort of twisted irony. He’s sent many a villain to jail, but he himself has never been in the back of such a police car. In the back of a high security one, once, when he was on an infiltration mission, but the back of such a normal one? Never. It’s an interesting experience to say the least; there’s mesh between the officer and themselves, and no way to get out from the back themselves. It’s also decidedly hot in the back, with plastic seats and no air conditioning.

Marinette is cooing at the child now, who is gripping her hand only slightly less tightly. “Don’t worry, Renee, we’re going to make sure that you don’t get hit like that again.”

The kid’s eyes are glassy, then he’s all tears, and he’s crying into Marinette’s shirt. She just pats him on the back, slowly, and lets him cry it out. It’s very different from the approach that Batman, the Nightwing, Red Hood and Robin take with their victims. Most times, they just let the victims be ushered wherever the police need then to be, and then, they never see them again. Damian justifies this with the fact that fundamentally vigilantes and regular people are different. It makes sense that Marinette has a more human touch to her. She’s not wearing a bodysuit. It’s all Marinette, and that makes the whole situation more powerful.

It only takes a few more moments for the boy to cry himself to sleep.

“I want to file with Child Protection Services.” Her voice is soft, low. She speaks carefully so as not to wake the kid up.

“Yes, we should file with CPS, but if this is just a one time thing there’s not really much that we can do about this.” The officer sounds sad, like he’s dealt with situations like this before.

“As long as we have proof that this isn’t a one time thing, we can make sure that Renee doesn’t go back with her unless he wants to?” There’s a flash of steel determination in Marinette’s eyes, and it almost makes Damian uncomfortable. It’s the look Barbara gets when one of them get really badly injured.

“Yes, but that kind of proof is hard to get.”

“I see,” she says, like she really does see all of the situation and knows exactly what needs to happen next. She says it like she’s going to make Renee’s mother go to jail if it’s the last thing she does.

They arrive at the precinct, and Marinette carries the boy like its nothing. Damian offers to help, but he’s shaken off. Renee is already asleep in her arms, after all, and she doesn’t want to risk waking him up. She’s sure that he's tired, after all this. It’s a curious thing, how softly and lovingly she looks down at the boy, even though Damian suspects that Marinette has never met the boy in her life before this fiasco.

Their party arrives more quickly than the mother, so they take seats in a small office, Renee still on Marinette’s lap. She’s now scrolling through her phone, assessing whatever’s on her screen with a clinical eye. Damian pulls out his phone as well. To be honest, he’s not quite sure what he’s doing here. He only stepped in at the last second, though he doesn’t have any real complaints about being here. His father would say it’s an experience, and his siblings would joke that he finally ended up in the hands of the police.

When the lady arrives, she looks nothing like that woman he saw on the streets earlier. She looks every inch a professional. Her makeup has been touched up, and there is a smile plastered on her face that screams dealing with an unpleasant situation.

“I’m so sorry about that,” she says to Marinette like she’s an old friend. “You know how it is-- sometimes it’s really hard to keep a level head with all that goes on in the city. I was so scared for my little boy-- I heard there was an akuma attack near his school, and rushed out to get him, but he wanted to stay with his friends.”

Marinette has a polite smile fixed on her face as well. Her face doesn’t show the slightest bit of reaction to the lady.

“Kids, am I right?” The lady tries for a joke, tries to sway Marinette and the officer and Damian to her side. “So just let me pick up Renee here, and I’ll bring him back home.”

The lady reaches for Renee, and Damian stops her because Marinette has both her hands full with Renee, who has woken up with shuddering sobs.

“Officer, is it possible if Renee can wait outside of the room while we talk? Surely there’s somebody who can watch him out there.” Her voice is still kept soft and soothing. She looks at Renee and smiles, doesn’t bother looking at the rest of her surroundings. “Is that okay, Renee? Do you mind waiting outside for a little?”

The little boy nods, and he is swept up by some other person who works at the precinct, and then it is only the four of them in the room.

The lady looks frustrated, but she keeps her mouth shut as the officer goes through the proper procedures that they must follow, and that CPS is getting involved.

“But officer, there’s no need to get CPS involved. I take very good care of my darling Renee. He gets to go to all the classes he could ever want to and I love him very much. I’m so sorry that he got bruised. I’ll make sure that it never happens again.”

Marinette’s hands are carefully laid on her pants. Her fingers are splayed open and the entirety of each palm rests on her thighs. A gesture that makes her look relaxed, were it not for the slight tremble that Damian detects. She is holding her hands in that position so tightly that Damian has good reason to believe that she is withholding herself from hitting the woman.

“Madame DeVries.” Marinette’s voice is clipped. “CPS must be involved. I insist. It’s very clear to me that this is not the first time that you have hurt Renee, nor will it be the last.”

“How can you say that?” The lady wails. She is an okay actress, but not able to fool any of those present in the room. “I love my darling boy. I would never hit him. Never!”

“Regardless of whether this is the first time you hit him, there are more ways to hurt a person than just physical abuse. Renee’s fear of you makes it clear that you have induced some sort of psychological trauma on him.”

The lady’s face contorts into a sneer when she realizes that nobody in the room is on her side. “You have no evidence. You can’t accuse me like that. I’ll call a lawyer.”

“Go ahead and call a lawyer, Madame. I think that would be for the best. Don’t worry about the evidence. There’s plenty.” She turns to the officer. “Please call someone from CPS here. I don’t want Renee going home with her until the trial is over.”

“You can’t do that to me.” The lady is standing now, towering over Marinette and trying to intimidate her. “I have a reputation to uphold. You will not sue me for child abuse. You cannot.”

“Any parent who truly cares for their child would care more for their child’s well being rather than their own reputation. I wonder what that says about you, Madame. There is no reason why I can’t sue you and too many reasons that I should.”

She lowers herself to Marinette's ear, whispers in soft tones that she’s certain will not be caught by any recording devices. “You will not take me to court, or I’ll make sure that you are blacklisted wherever you want to work. You underestimate how much power I have.”

“Madame, please move away from me. I was only going to attempt to remove Renee from your custody, but please be assured that I will now pursue you for threatening a minor, abusing a child, and whatever other charges that I can come up with. I will refuse to settle. The trial will go public, and the reputation that you care so much about will be ruined, even if you win.”

Celia Devries’ face shifts to an almost cattish grin. It looks like she’s won. “Please, I understand that you’re distressed, but I haven’t threatened you at all.”

Marinette simply pulls her phone out again and plays back a recording of the exact threat that Celia just made to her.

She splutters. “I never agreed to be recorded! It’s illegal under French code.”

“Madame DeVries, when you come into the precinct, you agree to being recorded. This recording might be from my personal phone, but it is still within legal jurisdiction. In addition, the code is different for gathering evidence against a crime. Everything that is said and done in this office can be disclosed during trial, and there are cameras and voice recorders in here. Please, return to whatever you had to do, and you will be served your court orders soon enough.” Damian is impressed. Has Marinette done this before? She’s too prepared to know this just by spending a few minutes on her phone.

Celia pales, then storms out of the room, frightened that she’ll say something else that will incriminate herself.

“At least Hawkmoth has already filled his daily quota,” the officer jokes.

“There’s that much, at least,” Marinette smiles, but there’s something frigid behind it.

“You’re always getting caught up in something,” Damian says.

“I really am. Some day I’ll become a recluse.”

“And let the world’s horrors move without you?”

Marinette shrugs and all of the tension that was holding in her hands and shoulders dissipates.

“Since this is a child custody case, it will be the government against Mademoiselle DeVries. The two of you can come to testify, and if there’s any evidence that you have, you can go ahead and give it to me now. If you want to sue her for threatening a minor, you can do that as well; I’ll get you in contact with a lawyer.”

“I don’t have any evidence.” Right now, at least. When Damian goes home, he’ll do a little digging about the woman, see what he can find.

“I do. I was recording the whole encounter on the street, and I also have several eyewitnesses who have recorded as well. Let me send them to you.” Marinette fiddles with her phone. “And if it’s possible, I think it would be a good thing for Renee to talk to a psychiatrist. In the interim before he goes home, who will he be staying with?”

“He can choose to stay with his next of kin, or can stay in a temporary foster home.”

“Please email me the date that I should come in to testify, and give me the lawyer’s contact information as well. I’ll email him any additional evidence that I can get.”

“I’d like the email address of the lawyer as well.” Damian might only have a moral conscience because his family beat it into him, but Renee seems like a sweet kid. He’s willing to help.

They’re out of the precinct in another half hour, after Marinette pulls the person from CPS in so they can talk to Renee about what’s going to happen next. The kid takes it surprisingly well, saying that he doesn’t want his mom to get hurt, but that he’s excited to see his Nonna and Nonno again. Marinette tells him that he can contact her any time he wants to talk at her cell phone number, and if he ever wants him to visit, just call.

All the buzz of the world seems to die down when they get out of the precinct, and Damian asks whether she’s done this before.

“I haven’t done anything like this before, but I’ve certainly dreamed of it.” Her eyes look off to a distance. “Abusive parents are the worst.”

“Yours?” Damian can’t imagine this girl’s parents as being abusive, but he should have known better to believe that. Just because someone is stable and competent doesn’t mean that they have a good family-- just look at him and his brothers. They’re competent and stable on good days.

She gasps and looks shocked, verging on offended and embarrassed. “Of course not! My parents are both very sweet people. I love them so much-- I can’t believe I gave you that idea! No, I was talking about a friend’s parent. Anyways, thank you for stepping between me and that woman. You always seem to help me right when I need it.”

Damian doesn’t really think that Marinette needed his help much in any of the situations that he’s seen her. He doesn’t mind the false gratitudes, though it does irk him that he’s never actually helped her. Odd, considering that what little morality he had mostly pertained to life threatening situations, and Marinette’s issues were more in line with everyday annoyances. “And yet you refuse to help me out with Lila.”

Her face immediately sours. “Like I said; class is class. It’s different at Francois Dupont.”

“And why is that?”

“If you want help catching up or something, I don’t mind helping you outside of class, but you can’t tell anyone. It’s better for you if you’re not seen with me.” Her hand is tight on her purse.

At the risk of feeling like a whiny child, Damian asks again. “But why shouldn’t I be seen with you?”

Marinette sighs, heavily, then looks around at the people on the streets, almost like she’s looking for somebody. “Let’s just say that Lila and I have come to an agreement. The rest of the class isn’t the fondest of me, and if you’re seen talking with me, that will be bad for both of us. I don’t want any problems.”

“Tt. I see.” It seems as though he will also spend some time tonight looking into the history of his class.

#miraculous ladybug #daminette #maribat #mlbxdc #dc #sbgs #original content #adrien agreste #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne

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zims-left-shoe · 5 years ago

Text

Agent Mothman (Dib x Male Reader)

Like most of my other fics, characters are aged up to high school. Plus, a friendly reminder that my request box is open!!

The silence was overwhelming. The pressure of everyone's collective held breath was almost palpable, your chest reactively tightening for no good reason. As you looked around you, eyes were wide, jaws were set and clenched in preparation to cringe. The only two who stuck out from the crowd were Zim and Dib, when did they not? Zim looked lost in thought, mind seemingly several thousand galaxies away, hands folded together neatly in front of his face, his chin resting on them. Dib, on the other hand, appeared to be over the whole ordeal. His posture was slouched as he stared ahead at the board through half-lidded eyes. As the quiet persisted, an anxious energy settled over your classmates (besides the two previously mentioned, of course). Eyes twitched, fingernails scraped the tables, feet began to tap restlessly on the floor.

"Y/n." The teacher finally spoke, bringing the whole class to sigh in relief, the building pressure suddenly released all at once. Many students leaned back in their chairs, high fiving each other. "Y/n, you will be partnered with Dib." You shrugged your shoulders as many looked to you in pity, some even whispering their sympathies. You had never aligned yourself with any group in particular throughout your school year. Granted, you were only a few months in, but you had switched schools so much you had learned to play the field. You avoided Dib considering his stigma, enabling you to be tolerated by the majority, however you were never mean to him. In fact, you rather liked him. You only chose to silently observe him rather than act upon your curiosity.

"But wait, who's going to be paired with Zim?" You heard a student groan, everyone's breath being held once more. You let your gaze drift over to your partner. He seemed relieved, a slight smile settling on his lips. This was probably the best case scenario for everyone. No one else had to work with Dib, and you were the only one who never picked on him for being just a bit different.

Once your teacher had finished reading names, you were all asked to sit with your partners. Without an ounce of reluctance, you sauntered over to Dib's otherwise empty table, taking one of the many available seats surrounding him. You needed to figure out a plan quickly, considering you only had one night to do the project. The project wasn't super taxing, in fact it seemed almost like busy work that would promote socialization at the same time, but it wasn't like your time frame was ideal.

"Dib, right?" You held up your hand in a slight wave. "I don't think I've officially introduced myself. I'm Y/n."

"I know. The new kid who has no real friends yet is somehow still deemed acceptable by the popular kids? An anomaly for sure." Red painted his face, his eyes widening as he realized how his words may have came off as. "Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound rude. Or creepy. You know what? I'll just stop talking." An awkward chuckle escaped your lips as his eyes fell to his sneakers. After a slight pause, Dib spoke again, his tone much more reserved than before. "I can just do the whole project and you can put your name on it if you want. It's not that hard." He was giving you an out, not wanting to piss you off. Reaching an arm out, you slugged his shoulder lightly.

"Nah, come on. I don't roll that way. Besides, I want to hang out with you a little."

"You...want to hang out...with me?" Dib pointed a finger to himself, eyes wide behind his large glasses. An incredulous expression was etched into every single feature of his face, as if he couldn't believe those words left your mouth.

"Yeah." After that syllable, the bell rang, dismissing you from school. You stood up, gathering your things. "Anyway, I'll be at your place after dinner. Just text me your address or whatever." You quickly scribbled your digits down on a scrap piece of paper that was laying around, passing it to him. "See ya!" You dashed away, sneaking one last glance back to see Dib still sitting in his chair, as still as a statue, not believing that this was even happening.

Your stomach felt as if it was full of butterflies, and you couldn't shake the grin that had spread across your face as you began your walk home.

God...he was even cuter than I thought... You were embarrassed by your own thoughts, pinching yourself on the arm. Truth was, you may or may not have been stalking him a little. He lived in your neighborhood, and you just couldn't help it. You had always been a hopeless romantic of sorts, and all it took was one look at him in class giving a presentation on the gremlin in his backyard and you were in love. You didn't even need his address, you knew where he lived, but you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable, so you asked for it anyway. Plus, it was a way to sneak him your number. And it wasn't as if you were actively trying to find out where he lived. It was pretty much impossible to ignore him and Zim screaming at each other as they ran back and forth between their houses all day.

"This is going to be a long night." You sighed out, foot striking out to kick a rock, the satisfying skittering sounds it made calming your nerves a small amount.

You drew in a deep breath as you brought your fist to the door, rapping on it a few times. Rocking back on your heels, you clutched your notebook and other supplies tightly to your chest, internally cringing at yourself. Everyone at school thought you were incredibly cool, but on the inside, you were just a lovesick gay who was overflowing with big dumb energy. The door swung open, bringing you to jump and be pulled from your motivational speech that was being given inside your head.

"Come on in. I'm surprised you showed up." Dib stepped aside to let you in, gesturing past the living room to the kitchen where a purple-haired girl sat at a table, picking at the remaining food on her plate. A floating monitor hovered near the table as well. "We're just finishing dinner, but you can follow me if you want." Nodding, you padded behind the social outcast wordlessly, taking a seat next to him at the table. "Gaz, this is Y/n, my partner for my project. Y/n, this is my sister Gaz."

"Hey." You waved to the girl. Her expression remained squinty as she continued to pick at her food, eyes dancing between her plate and a Game Slave which was charging on the counter.

"Whatever." She grumbled, never even directly acknowledging your existence once. You began to wonder if Dib was actually the most normal out of his entire family, which was saying something. Dib awkwardly cleared his throat as he pointed to the floating monitor, which displayed a man in a lab coat and goggles furiously working on something.

"Oh, and this is my dad. He's at work right now, like usual. When he can't be with us for dinner, he either videocalls us from his lab or plays a pre-recorded video reminding us of chores and dinner instructions." Despite how sad the things he had just said sounded, not an ounce of bitterness was up for display on his face. Instead, his eyes shone with pride, happy to have a dad who was making a difference in the world, even if he could never really be a conventional father. "Anyway, just let me clean up and then we can get to work." Dib stood up, bringing his own plate over to the sink and running it under water, placing it in in its respective place in the dishwasher afterwards. Waving for you to follow him, he led you down the hall to a room that was clearly his. The door was covered in posters and stickers of aliens and other supernatural creatures, a good sized "Keep Out" sign the centerpiece. You wondered what would be inside, becoming excited. You figured you were the first person besides his own family to be seeing his room. He twisted the knob, casually pushing the door open, allowing you to step inside.

"Wow..." You trailed off as you glanced around. There was so much to look at. Your eyes darted from one thing to the next, barely able to take it all in. There were several computer monitors surrounding a desk that was littered in papers and catalogues for supernatural hunting items, a few prototypes of possibly his dad's inventions scattered there as well. His room was lined with posters of aliens and other entities, an important looking briefcase thrown haphazardly onto his bed. The one thing that held your gaze the longest was a ginormous cork board. Several photos, drawings, diagrams, and hurried scribbles of notes were tacked up there, filling it to the max. Each paper was connected with color coded strings, things circled in colored pen seemingly at random, although you knew better. It was the definition of organized chaos. In large, bold, red letters, one word was scrawled on a paper at the top of the board: ZIM.

"I'm sorry, I tried to clean it as best I could. It's still kind of a mess." Dib hurriedly stacked papers together on his desk, trying to make it look presentable.

"It's fine, don't worry about it. You should see my room. Half of my shit isn't even out of boxes yet, and we moved in months ago." You laughed, sitting down on his floor. "So, alien invasion, huh? Isn't Zim that kid with the skin condition?" You asked, gesturing to his cork board. His shoulders tensed as he unplugged his computer and brought it down to the ground, taking a seat beside you.

"Could we just get to work? Please?" He seemed to want to sweep that subject under the rug, and you decided that you would let him.

"Okay...so anyway, this research poster. You got a topic in mind?" Your prompt drew him out of his unsociable shell, albeit hesitantly.

"Personally, I was thinking Area 51, but if you wanted to do something else..." He genuinely appeared to not want to upset you, despite usually not caring about how he came off to others.

"That sounds great, Dib. Interesting too. You think they're really hiding aliens there?" Laying down on your stomach, you rested your face in the palms of your hands, gearing up for a long talk. A smile crept onto your face as immediately his eyes lit up.

"I'm glad you asked."

"I think we have the essentials. Now we just need to get them onto the poster, which is probably the most time consuming part." Dib stretched his arms towards the ceiling while you yawned and cracked your back. You didn't know how long you had been sitting on the floor for, but a glance to the clock by his bed told you it was 8:01 pm. The two of you had spent the last couple of hours researching, organizing notes, and mainly just talking about yourselves. You had no idea why everyone constantly was ragging on him. You found him to be incredibly interesting and entertaining, hanging onto every single word he spoke. You weren't really sure if you believed in all of these supernatural creatures, but you also didn't think that they couldn't exist.

"I think so too. You ready to start on the poster now?" Reaching out, you gathered the posterboard and construction paper Dib had brought in from his garage together.

"Yeah, in a minute. I have to use the bathroom and then see what Gaz is up to, I'll be back in a few." You hummed a response, Dib standing up and exiting, closing the door softly behind him. Deciding to take a closer look at the Zim conspiracy board, you pushed yourself to your feet, leaning close to try and decipher the grainy images. One in particular caught your eye. It wasn't in color, and everything seemed fairly blurry. Zim, or what was supposedly Zim, was hunched over something that looked to be a robot. Except, as you looked even closer, Zim seemed to have these buggish eyes and long, skinny antennae in place of his hair. Rubbing your eyes, you flopped down onto Dib's bed.

"God, I must be seeing things." You had managed to convince yourself that you had been staring at computer screens and papers for far too long, and that your eyes were playing tricks on you, showing you what Dib wanted you to see. Closing your eyes for a minute, the rise and fall of your chest turned slow and steady, and you could feel your grip on reality loosening.

A ringtone of sorts snapped you back from your almost-doze, and at first you thought it was your phone, but after waking up a bit more, you realized it was coming from one of Dib's monitors. It appeared he was getting a call. The monitor showed nothing besides a logo of some sort of eye, as well as an option to accept the call or decline. Filled with curiosity, your feet took you to his desk where his monitor sat. You barely felt in control of your body as your finger swiped at the screen in the direction to accept the call.

"Agent Mothman-" The voice coming through the monitor was distorted, but you got the impression that it was on purpose. The image displayed was a dark silhouette of what seemed to be a man. "You're not Mothman."

"You mean that cryptid from West Virginia? No. I'm not." You took a seat in Dib's desk chair, which was very comfy. You assumed he spent a lot of time in it when he wasn't hanging out with Zim.

"Who are you and what do you know?" The voice was menacing, and you vaguely wondered if Dib was involved in something more serious than you thought. Quirking an eyebrow, you tried to not let any miniscule amount of fear you were feeling show.

"I'm, we'll just say Agent, uh...Nessie." Feeling uncreative, your mind drifted to the Loch Ness Monster.

"You're not Nessie either."

"You got one of those too? Ugh, fine. What about Agent Chupacabra?"

"Well, no, but...you're not any agent we know of."

"But I could be! Agent Chupacabra reporting for duty!" You brought your hand up to your head stiffly in a mock salute.

"But you're not a member of the Swollen Eyeball! What are you doing on Mothman's computer?"

"The Swollen what now?" You were smiling stupidly, only because you couldn't really grasp what the current situation was.

"Hey, sorry, Gaz decided to hound me over drinking the last soda, so I took a little longer than I thought-" Dib opened the door to reveal you sitting in his desk chair, trying to look all spooky for the guy in the monitor. You thought he'd laugh at your stupidity, but he was not in the least bit amused. "OH MY GOD AGENT DARK BOOTY!" Slamming his room door, he darted over to where you were sitting, almost tripping and falling on his face. He made a strangled noise as he noticed the disappointed expression that rested on the silhouette's face.

"Who is your little friend, Agent Mothman?" The distorted voice was cold, and you could feel Dib almost shrink next to you.

"Listen, I can explain-"

"I thought we stressed secrecy, and the fact that you are not allowed to have outsiders sit in on our important meetings."

"Meeting?" All of a sudden, several of the other monitors sparked to life, various other silhouettes coming into view. Just in one glance, you could see that Dib wanted nothing more than to fade away into a cloud of space dust in that moment. You stayed silent, knowing that Dib was in some serious trouble because of you.

"We had a meeting at 8:30 pm sharp, Mothman. You knew this. And you had a friend over?" Dib's face, already pale, turned even more so. Any lighter, and you thought for sure he'd become a ghost on the spot.

"I am so sorry, I had a school project, and he's my partner, I lost track of time." He looked absolutely helpless, and without a word, you stood up and gathered the poster supplies. Snapping back to his senses, he turned to you and began shoving you out of his room and herding you to the front door.

"Dib, I-"

"You really need to go!" There were no other words said between the two of you as he quite literally slammed the door in your face. A sigh slipped past your lips as you clutched your project items in your arms, dragging your feet across the pavement on your walk home. You lazily stumbled through your front door, mumbling a greeting to your parent(s) as you headed to your room, gearing yourself up to finish the project before morning.

"Thank you to Y/n and Dib for their, erm, informative...presentation on Area 51. That was your last one, so enjoy your last five or so minutes of class." Your teacher went back to their desk as you and Dib retreated to your own table. You hadn't talked much since the incident last night, and quite frankly, you were tired from spending hours of your night creating the visual portion of your project. Dib's lips were tightly pressed together in a thin line, and you guessed there was something he wanted to get off his chest.

"Look, Dib. If there's something you want to say to me, just do it. I'm sorry for answering your call, that was not a good move on my part, and I also apologize for getting you in trouble with your, uh...society." Running a hand through his dark hair, Dib shook his head.

"No, that was my bad. I forgot I had a meeting. I'm also really sorry for kicking you out and then forcing you to finish the project on your own." Your expression softened, unable to resist forgiving him.

"Yeah, that was kind of a dick move." You elbowed him jokingly, hoping he would loosen up now that bygones were bygones.

"No, seriously. How can I make it up to you?" He looked as if he wouldn't be taking no for an answer. He had gotten a taste of what having someone who genuinely enjoyed being around him was like, and he wasn't willing to let that go. A sly grin tugged at your lips, and almost immediately an idea came to mind.

"Consider yourself forgiven if you take me ghost hunting, or whatever it is you do." His shoulders tensed, but relaxed when he realized you weren't making fun of him.

"Well, you're in luck. I just received a case file investigation last night on a bigfoot lead. I'll pick you up at eight, if that works?" His words were cautious, almost as if he still believed you were phishing.

"It's a date!" You cheered happily, already excited about getting to spend more time with him. A faint blush dusted his cheeks at your wordage.

"Of-Of course." He stammered out, grateful for the bell that rang not even a second after.

"See you tonight, Dib!" You waved as you made your way home, wanting eight to come as fast as possible.

"He knows the project is over, right?" Torque Smacky raised an eyebrow, questioning Dib and wondering why someone as cool as you would be hanging around with a guy like Dib by choice.

The doorbell rang, and you sprang up from where you sat on the couch, overjoyed to head out. Practically throwing open the door revealed Dib in all of his trench coat glory, albeit a bit nervous looking and sweaty.

"Alright Mr. Mothman, where are we going?" You grabbed onto his arm, eventually linking it with your own. He cringed at the nickname, but resisted nothing else.

"To the park. Apparently, some woman saw bigfoot there the other night. Also, fun fact, I saw bigfoot in my garage one time. He was using the belt sander." Your eyes widened, and you immediately realized why everyone called him crazy. You took it upon yourself to believe him. He obviously believed in himself, so why shouldn't you?

"Interesting. You see any other spooks in your time here?" He shrugged as you walked.

"I mean, I think a few ghosts and, well, aliens of course, but we've been over that. Also, I have vague memories of being abducted by aliens as a kid. I think they were trying to experiment on me to create some sort of genius super baby or something." You couldn't help the laughter that tumbled from your mouth. It wasn't necessarily laughing at him, more so that you weren't sure how else to respond. You didn't want to put him down, but at the same time, his story was very out there. And although you weren't 100% on board with the whole supernatural thing, you believed in him and his words. If that was his truth, you would stand by it. "You ever see anything supernatural?" You pointed a finger to yourself, as if to ask, 'me?'.

"Well, I mean...I did live in West Virginia for a while when I was younger...a lot younger. And then we moved around a lot." Your eyes instinctively narrowed as you tried to recall those times with you and your neighborhood friends. "And, you know, Mothman was like the local legend. He's basically a celebrity down there."

"No way! Did you actually, like, see him?" If you didn't already have it, you sure had his full attention now.

"No. I believed in him for a while, but we never saw him, and as I got older and distanced myself from there, I just kind of figured it was bullshit. My friends and I, we would go out at night trying to hunt for him with flashlights and stuff. Sometimes we'd bring lamps onto the porch and plug them in, building little 'Welcome, Mothman' forts to sleep in." You chuckled, remembering how much you had believed in all the spookies and specters as a child.

"That's adorable." Dib's lips were parted in a smile as he continued to lead you deeper into the park. You weren't sure when you had actually gotten there, but you weren't really paying much attention.

"Well, maybe we could do that together some time. I know Mothman isn't really big in this part of the country, but who knows. Maybe he'll come." Softly bumping Dib in the side, you were pleased to see his smile only grow.

"I'd like that." The nice moment was interrupted by rustling of the trees, and Dib turned on his flashlight, pointing it to the treetops. "There!"

"I thought bigfoot was more on the ground!" You called as you raced after him. You both came to a grinding halt, your feet skidding in the grass to try and avoid ramming straight into Dib's back. The boy you were with aggressively pointed his flashlight into the tree, resulting in a loud hiss from whatever was up there. "Maybe it's just a cat, Dib!" You tried to pull him away, not really liking how riled up he was at the moment.

"Zim! What are you doing here?! What evil things are you planning?"

"Zim?" You looked upwards, following the beam of the flashlight. Sure enough, there was a green body hunched in a tree branch, a robot of some sort next to him.

"None of your business, Dib-stink!" Zim spat, turning to face your friend. It was then you got a good look at his face. It wasn't the slightly abnormal one you were used to seeing every day. His eyes were red and buglike, sleek, black antennae sprouting from his head.

"Holy shit, Dib. You're not crazy." You flicked your flashlight on as well, aiming it at who you thought was your classmate. "He really is an alien!" A strangled cry came from the alien sitting atop the tree branch.

"GIR! Do something!"

"Yes, master!" The once cheerful-looking robot suddenly turned much more serious, dropping down from the branch to where the two of you were standing. You yelped, unsure of what this thing was capable of.

"Relax, his robot is pretty much usele-" Dib began, but his sentence came to an abrupt end when several missals and other weapons emerged from his head.

"How do you like GIR's new adjustments, Dib? I finally got his behavioral chip fixed to where he's responsive, but not too serious." Zim smirked, and with the point of one of his clawed fingers, his robot was on the two of you.

Simultaneously, both of you let out a scream, reaching desperately for each other's hands as you ran for your lives back to Dib's place. Your feet pounded the pavement, lungs feeling as if someone was raking knives down your throat and organs, yet despite all that, you both refused to look back. Only when you were on his porch did you feel comfortable sneaking a glace behind you, only to find an empty street lit up by streetlights. Breathing heavily, the two of you leaned on each other for support. Dib looked very worse for wear. He didn't seem to be too athletically inclined.

"I think...we lost him..." You spoke between gasps for air, grinning all the while. He nodded vigorously, still wheezing. After the two of you had regained your breath, you both managed to catch each other's gaze. You felt every portion of your brain that was in charge of thinking shut down as you leaned in closer to him. You were barely even aware of what you were doing as you pressed your lips to his. His eyes looked as if they were about to burst from his skull, but after a moment, they eased shut as he relaxed into the kiss. You pulled away, feeling heat rush to your cheeks, almost as if your face was on fire. Your stomach was tied in too many knots to even look at Dib, but if you had, you would have seen that he wasn't fairing much better. In fact, he was probably in worse condition. "Thanks for the night of fun, Agent Mothman."

"Uh-huh." He mumbled out, and his brain looked miles away. You decided just to go home before you did or said anything else that could be classified as stupid. As you power-walked away, Dib's hand found its way to his lips, where the feeling and warmth of your own still lingered.

#invader zim #fanfic #fanfiction #dib membrane #dib x reader #invader zim x reader #invader zim fic #invader zim fanfiction #oneshot #one shot #invader zim oneshot #invader zim one shot

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halothenthehorns · 4 years ago

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All in the Family

Chapter 26: The Deathday Party

Frank lay there for several moments before the screeching noise finally roused him from the stone cold floor. Shivering with every twitch of hands, he pushed himself into a sitting position and lethargically looked around to see who was being tortured. They turned out to be musical saws, and Frank counted his blessings when he banged his head on something and uttered a curse on the far side of the room, rather than being in the younger Black's condition of landing right next to these still going while no one was playing. Considering this only mild compensation for the way he'd acted in the last room, Frank rolled himself out from under the table just for the movement, as he was sure he was already turning blue from the cold, but stopped in surprise when he saw the papers he'd been holding from Lockhart's office had come along.

Eager and always willing to go find her, he hurried over to Alice's side, who was huddled up next to the door with a very put out expression in place. "Normally I love the cold," she happily told him. "'S my favorite time of year, with the beautiful snow and warm mugs, but I think I can pass on whatever this place is."

"A Deathday Party," Potter informed them, having not landed too far away, rubbing his hands together for warmth as well but looking quite pleased with himself as he quickly snatched up the book. "This is brilliant, can't believe Harry's going to one of these!"

"Must be Nick's, he usually makes a thing out of his," the more tolerable Black for now agreed as he came wondering over, hardly looking as if the cold was bothering him at all.

Potter was already flipping through pages to find his place as the two went near their other friends, while Frank eagerly turned to Alice and explained what he found.

"It's a good thing you weren't made Prefect," she couldn't help but laugh when he was done. "Going through a teacher's desk like that, what's come over you!" She happily teased.

"Don't let my mother hear you saying that," he tragically informed her. "She wouldn't stop going on about it all summer, rest of my life most likely."

Alice's smile lit up the whole room as far as he was concerned, hardly even noticing the puffs of air still visible for the warmth of her smile. "So you finally mention her, and that's what you come up with. We've been dating nearly ten months now, how is that the first time you've mentioned your family to me? I've all but introduced you to mine."

Frank just shrugged without comment for now, and as always Alice happily stepped off the topic with good grace. "Well, our theory of objects going into motion with us seems confirmed then, you keep hold of these papers and maybe when we finally stop spinning through this kids life they might just come back with us all together."

"You think that's possible?" He asked eagerly, looking around again and thinking of several advantages they could have of this. It would be quite something to find magic beyond their years, even books not even published yet, and take them back to the past of all things!

"I don't see why not at this rate, with all we've done," she sighed, looking far less encouraging to the idea, her mind clearly on whose timeline they could erase in all this.

Frank frowned in acknowledgment of that, and quickly kept on track. "Right then, I'll leave them in here when we leave and hopefully they'll go back to him."

"Best hurry up and let me read them then," she agreed, holding out her hand. Potter was already up to the explanation of why Harry was going to this Deathday Party, though neither of them had given much care at all for Filch haranguing another student about filth in the castle.

Lily had paused in surprise of hearing Filch was a Squibb, but apparently she'd been the only one not to be enlightened of this news. Must be a mudblood thing, her mind scathingly informed her as she went back to braiding her hair and pacing restlessly along the black crepe paper nearest the instruments. It wasn't at all pleasant, the sound harming her eardrums so much she hardly caught a word of what Potter was now saying in regards to Harry's own dissent coming down here. It was still better than the rest of the room. That younger Black had moved away from this area at once and had instead located over to the rotting food table with a blanket look of disgust, as well he deserved, she hoped the smell was atrocious. The Marauders were all located more in the center of the room, as if hoping to avoid all repellent things around them, while Alice and Frank stayed near the door and continued whatever they were chatting about. She had no wish to join them this time, she just wanted to be alone.

That wasn't even true though, she wanted Severus. Alice's defense for her had been heartwarming, she'd even grudgingly acknowledge under duress she admired the extreme reaction from Potter in his shout she be apologized to. At the very least though both were just pacing acquaintances in all this, at most Alice was turning into a genuine friend and Potter slightly more tolerable if he could stop bothering to hex the one person missing. She wanted her best friend here for her, to have him be the one to tell Regulus off for that, to offer her to tag-team the little whelp in retaliation for that remark. She could so easily envision what Sev would have done for her in that moment of need of a true friend she was almost smiling despite the circumstances.

"-Prongs, would you bloody pay attention! You'd be done by now if you'd quit gawking at her every other line," Sirius groused beside him.

"Eh?" He muttered, turning to him in surprise, before Sirius was proven right the very next second by his eyes again flickering to her. He loved it when she played with that long red hair, though he preferred it down than the tight braid she was putting it in. He could almost imagine it, that long mane sweeping around them between the pearly figures that should have been surrounding this place, possibly passing through several without a care, eyes only for each other. They'd sway to the tune of this awful music around them, but it wouldn't be so awful with her in his arms, the two keeping each other warm in this freezing room.

"J-J-James! I am b-b-begging you t-t-to-" Peter couldn't even get the full sentence out he was stuttering so bad from the cold, and Remus wasn't even trying, pressing himself so close to Sirius he looked like he was trying to jump right into his arms for any warmth. James released a gusting sigh, yet more visible air puffing out of him, as he grudgingly turned back once more to his lad having a miserable time at this party. He did suppose those two weren't as used to the cold, they didn't have to go out in Quidditch practices during it but instead spent their times up in the warm fires while he and Sirius became accustomed to this. Course on nights during these weathers they all had fur coats, so that wasn't a problem either.

"Oh yes, alright," he huffed as he went back to seeing Peeves taunt Myrtle, that was nothing new. He honestly would have skipped right past the Headless Hunt being such ponces to Nick, as they were every time he invited them. They'd only heard of his Deathday Parties once before, tried to sneak down here last year but been caught, but from what he'd heard inside the room before then had been similar. This bit was turning out to be nothing of interest at all, and his mind was just starting to wander back to clever ways he was sure he could convince Evans to just have one dance with him in here when Harry finally excused himself from this place, and heard it again.

His breath caught in his throat, he swore his friends even stopped shivering in surprise and went for their wands with nothing but a steady hand as they all again strained to hear a thing, but it was just too noisy in this room with that horrid background sound. He wasn't even sure if he'd caught anyone else's attention besides his friends, but he certainly did when he swore at the top of his lungs.

"What do you mean Harry went after that voice!" Sirius agreed while looking faint. "Prongs, I think your kid may well have a death wish!"

James did not disagree, reading on in a complete panic Harry would catch up to whomever this was!

Regulus was quite grateful he didn't, not even he wanted to hear of the murder of a twelve year old, but he did come across something just as intriguing as an icy voice in Hogwarts.

"Chamber of Secrets?" Alice murmured for herself. "I've heard of that, I think my cousin Flora mentioned it, but I hardly listen to a thing she ever says." She already wished she could go back to reading more pages of that strange interview Lockhart had given a man regarding a werewolf attack, it had certainly been better reading material than this tale.

"Me mum might have mentioned it once as well, more like an old wives tale surrounding Hogwarts and when it was founded," Frank agreed, scratching at the back of his neck as he tried to recall.

"Twice in one day, I'm flattered," she happily told him.

"Don't get used to it," he chuckled, wrapping an arm around her to draw her in as her shivers continued to increase.

The two froze, almost literally in these conditions, and it wasn't all for the cold anymore. "What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" She whispered so quietly beside him it was as if she feared whatever, or whomever, had done that were in here now.

Frank had no answer. Of all the things he'd seen the kids in this school do to each other, maiming a cat like that still ranked pretty high on his list.

Even now that the voice had gone, Potter clearly wasn't in any better of a mood. He seemed genuinely distraught at the arrival of someone, only to deliver another insult. No one got a chance to react again to that word being spoken as they were pulled once more from this room.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #CoS #Alice Smith #Frank Longbottom #James Potter #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #Regulus Black #Peter Pettigrew #Marauders #Wolfstar #Jilly

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sirsharp-a · 4 years ago

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I Have Chosen You. ❜

Summary: Edgar returns to his duties - and with a mysterious request for some of his hunters.

Warnings: N/A.

❝ ALRIGHT. ❞ The hum surrounding the tavern was cut short by the Alpha banging the butt of a bottle harshly atop the counter. ❝ I desire silence. ❞

There was a lot to address: where he’d been; why he’d disappeared without a word for several weeks, only to be bedridden upon his return. Only Grace-- and now Moxie, through his ‘scientific research’ regarding Edgar’s newfound immortality-- knew of his situation, and it was time for for him to grant the rest of the creed some amount of clarity.

❝ I know things have been tumultuous as of late. Your leader has been MIA for a number of weeks, and for that I can only apologise. There are things in this life that cannot be avoided. ❞

He didn’t need to go into the details. All most needed to know was that he’d never had any intention to leave in the first place. Much like birds with their owners, an inferior’s trust in their Alpha could easily be diminished if they exhibited unwanted behaviour. Unwilling to see all of his hard work and prestige swirl down the drain, Edgar intended to fix it.

❝ I won’t go into the entire thing. All you need to know is that I had a brush with death, needed some time to recover, and am now back in full throttle. May I remind you that though I am your Alpha, I am not indestructible. I do not expect your compassion-- only your tolerance. I had no intention to leave, nor to leave you all unattended, but I trust that you all did just fine without me. You have no need for me to hold your hands. I am particular with who I allow into this creed, meaning you are all capable, intelligent and intuitive. I expect there were very few complications while I was away, and that you all came through as a team. Things will resume as normal. The Strahvern will run as before, as I am finally ready-- and able-- to return. ❞

Surveying the small crowd might have been nerve-wracking for some, but for a man who had spoken in front of hundreds of thousands of people on a multitude of different occasions, this was the equivalent of a social gathering. Though the topic was dreary and the tone was serious, he spoke with the ease of somebody who was speaking to an old friend in private; no nerves; no need to stop and fumble; responsible and authoritative. As he glanced around the room, taking in the sober faces of his fellow creedmates, all he saw was the same trust they had always had in him. Fractured in some places, perhaps, but it was no doubt treatable.

❝ I expect your full effort. And you can all expect mine from this moment on. ❞ After a final sweep of the room, he pocketed his hands casually, eyebrows raising high. ❝ Any questions? ❞

The room was silent save for a couple of hushed ‘no sir’’s. Edgar clapped his hands, the sound ringing through the tavern.

❝ Alright-y then! Off you go! ❞ He snaked around the bar, stopping a handful of hunters on their way out. ❝ You two wait. I have an assignment for you. ❞ When he began to walk back, he heard obedient footsteps behind him, the two men both curious and apprehensive. Edgar sat atop his usual stool behind the bar, still towering over them despite it. ❝ I am on the hunt for another Alpha. I want you to team up with Moxie and a small group of scouts that I have assembled to find out her location and bring it back to me. You will do nothing else. I do not want you to make contact with her, nor any of her members, and I want you to remain discreet. I strictly want her current whereabouts and nothing more. Is that understood? ❞

Flint was the first one to nod, face a mask of stone. ❝ What’s the name? ❞

❝ Nyx, ❞ Edgar replied, the word doused in venom. ❝ Nyx Allura. ❞

❝ What’s your business with her, boss? ❞

❝ It matters not. It doesn’t affect your mission. ❞ He paused to reach into his pocket, lighting a smoke and propping it between his lips in order to take a drag. After exhaling, he held it between two fingers, the swirling vapour a hypnotic ally to his bitter delivery. ❝ I have already given the scouts a physical description. She is known to dwell in the South. Past No-Man’s Bluff. You may not be back for a week or two. I don’t want any of you to return here until you get some sort of ‘coordinates’. You must understand the seriousness of this request; this is something that I must deal with, and I have chosen you because I have faith in your abilities. ❞

Flint nodded slowly, glancing sideways to his assigned teammate. Sparrow was a quirky fellow; he barely spoke, but he was as fierce as they came. Feral, often frothing at the mouth, and hungry for destruction. Briefly, Flint wondered how he would fare when it came to resisting the urge to blow their cover and charge straight for the kill.

❝ Should be easy enough. I guess Grace is accompanying us if you’ve assembled some sc-- ❞

❝ She is not coming. ❞

❝ What...? But she’s the Lead. How is it possible that she isn’t necessary? ❞

Edgar shook his head, taking another deep drag from his smoke. ❝ Under normal circumstances, she would absolutely be accompanying you. But she has some personal connection to the Alpha in question. To use her would be dangerous; both for her and for us. I need level-headed lyes that are free from pre-conceived judgement. She is not suitable for this particular mission. I would also much prefer it if you did not discuss this with her. She is not to know yet. ❞

He wasn’t ready to expose himself as the lovesick fool that he was. He’d sooner die than tell Flint that the reason she wasn’t accompanying them was because he couldn’t bear to expose her to the one that had ruined her life. Not yet-- perhaps when the time was right. When the context was fitting. When he himself wasn’t so terrified of losing her. Though immortality would be handy in his conflict against others in the future, Grace’s lack of invulnerability worried him a great deal. The idea of being forced to live on without his lover was a horrifying prospect, one that he wished to avoid with every fibre of his being. For that reason, he wouldn’t wittingly put her in harm’s way-- whether she could fend for herself or not.

❝ Has all of that sunk in? ❞ he asked, a deep calm passing through him as the smoke did its job. When both hunters slowly nodded, he smiled wide once more. ❝ Good! Prepare yourselves tonight, then leave in the morning. ❞

❝ Is this gonna result in a war, Alpha? ❞ Sparrow asked, voice a deep monotone drone. Despite the lack of emotion on his face, there was a crazed glint in his eye, one that longingly thirsted for blood.

❝ Mm, ❞ Edgar hummed, smile sharpening somewhat. ❝ Probably. ❞

#🞮 — i am the lie that you adore. ❜ ( edgar. )#🞮 — life was never worse but never better. ❜ ( novel. )#🞮 — ask me to stay﹐i would be charmed to. ❜ ( ic. )#drabble *#narrative *#/A RRRGGGGGG HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #A NEW ARC HAS STARTED

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ntmyrp · 5 years ago

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happy wednesday to all you cute little fish! (we’re still coming up with a good nickname for all of you, bear with us!!!!) we’re only three days away from the grand opening of our site, and we have a great preview coming for you in two hours that’s going to help you push on forward with your character development! until then, we’re going to be giving you all a full look at our guidelines. behind the cut, you can find the guidelines that we will be running by upon site opening in their full format. despite having a lite version of our rules both on our blog and in our discord, we’ve decided to be as transparent with you as possible with everything! we hope that this can help answer any questions that you may have been having!

for aliases, duplicates are not allowed. please refer to our member directory to make sure an alias is not in use upon registration. if your alias is in use please make sure to make a distinction in the alias you choose to go by to avoid any confusion. (ex: bri, brie, bri2, etc.)

the first six characters that you make after joining the site are free! when and if you reach that amount you will need to purchase slots for any additional characters that you choose to make through our point store.

we have a limit of fifteen characters per member and all characters made on the site must be over eighteen years of age. there is also a limit of two sets of identical twins per member.

we will be allowing duplicate first names (though we reserve the right to put a hold on certain names in the future if too many, for example, becky's or mark's start to pop up). with the exception of surnames from cultures that have a smaller romanized surname pool (such as chinese, korean, taiwanese and vietnamese), we will not be allowing duplicate surnames. please check our member list to make sure a surname is not in use already before registering your character.

your profile on site will have four graphics: a 280x375 avatar, one rectangle gif (185x100 in approximate size, but it'll resize) and one square gif (will also resize). the final graphic is located in your avatar section and is of same size as the square gif.

we ask that members do not use nsfw or suggestive images in their mini or main profile section as to keep the scrolling experience a little more... visually sfw for those who keep tabs on the site at work and in public spaces.

all codes provided on nice you to meet ya! were made exclusively in order to maintain the aesthetic for the site so we’d like for you to use only the codes provided in the code bank. outside templates are not allowed on here and we ask that you please not edit our templates or their css. if there is a change you'd like to ask about or an issue, please contact an admin and we'll do our best to help. if any of the codes are seen taken outside of the board we will not hesitate to contact and potentially ban you from the site.

all faces claims must have a confirmed birth year and either be signed to agency / label or have verified social media. we will not be allowing any faces to be used that are under 18 years of age or that are deceased.

we are very serious about respecting the backgrounds of all faces being used on the site. therefore, we have implied a strict policy condemning any and all whitewashing or ethnic bending. all characters created must be portrayed in accordance to the cultural and ethnical background of the faces being used for them. for example: if you are using alisha boe as for a character, that character must be portrayed as half-somali and half-white. there is no exceptions to this rule. this rule also applies to characters who's face claims are ashkenazi jewish, etc.

if you plan on using a face that is trans, or that identifies as gender nonconfirming, genderfluid or nonbinary, the character that you create using them must respect this by identifying as the same. cis faces may not be used to portray any of the aforementioned.

we have a +3 / -3 year rule with face claims which means that your character must be within three years of age (younger or older) of the face claim that you are planning to use.

face claim reservations will last for 72 hours with a 24 hour extension if you have already started your application. after acceptance you will get a 24 hour grace period to claim your face before it is up for grabs again. you will have to wait 24 hours after your initial reserve or extension wears out before you can reserve the same face again.

we aim to be a relaxed but active community. we understand that all of us have duties and responsibilities outside of the site. the focus of this site is to have fun and develop your characters comfortably while still maintaining the board. in order for your account(s) to be considered active, you must have at least one thread post or three communication posts every 14 days. we will be doing sweeps every 14 days as well to reflect this and if you do not meet those requirements your account will be moved to inactive.

please post in our absence thread if you will be busy and not capable of meeting the regular activity requirements for [x]-amount of time. if you will be away longer than fourteen days, you must speak with an admin. after the timeline for your initial away post expires, you have two days to meet the above activity requirements with all of your accepted characters.

while on absence, you cannot reserve face claims and create new characters.

as we are a premium site, we are rated as mature, meaning that we will allow the playing out of mature topics (that are not banned). please make sure to appropriately tag your threads in the topic title if they will be featuring material that is either sexually mature (preferably with [m]) or potentially triggering (preferably with [tw]). please see our trigger warning guide below for more information on triggers and how to tag them properly.

admins will use discretion with potentially sensitive topics (such as crime, sexual assault, abuse, violence, etc.).

as we have stressed more than once already: we want all of our members to feel safe and comfortable on nice to meet ya!. any passive aggressive behavior that we either see occurring or that has been brought to our attention will be taken very seriously and addressed immediately.

we have a zero tolerance policy for coercion and take harassment very seriously. if you feel that you have been harassed or pressured to partake in something that you do not feel comfortable with you can contact our admins either by direct messaging one of our core accounts here on the board, or by messaging one of us directly on discord. respect is priority here! please have respect for one another. roleplaying is a hobby for us all and we deserve to be able to do it in an environment that is neither stressful or negative. let's do our best to keep this experience a fun and positive one for everyone on the board. please don't be a beach!

#ntmyrp #previews

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nicohickman · 2 years ago

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Four Steps to Making Effective Decisions

In the best of circumstances, it may be difficult to make difficult choices. And when people look to your decision-making skills to make the final call and you're unsure of the outcome, you can feel like the future of your career as well as your team or even your company could be at risk. There are many examples of business mistakes that have been made in history. No one wants to be that person who missed a market shift or squandered an acquisition.

But someone must be the "go-to" decision-maker. After all, no decision IS a decision and companies cannot afford to remain in a rut. What can you do to increase the ability of making decisions that are effective? To find out more information on FS D20 Dice, you have to visit roll a d20 site.

Start by assessing your own way of making decisions. There are three main methods to make decisions.

Consultative decision making involves seeking input from others before making any decisions.

Directive decision-making is taking the decision yourself.

Consensus decision making involves including others and coming to an agreement.

Of sure, different decisions require different strategies However, all leaders will naturally gravitate toward one or the other of these approaches more often. Identify how you make decisionsand learn when you should alter your decision-making strategy to boost the quality of the outcome.

These four steps will aid you in making the most effective decision you can once you have an idea of the process used to make decisions.

1. Define the issue or need

Calvin Coolidge once said, "If you see ten troubles that are coming your way and you're sure that nine of them will end up in the ditch before they can reach the point where you." It's easy to observe a series of problems and turn them into something that requires the attention of a person, or turn a decision into a bigger issue than it really is. To avoid making decisions about problems or needs that you do not have at the moment, take some time to clarify the issue at hand. It is essential to understand the root of the issue and how you can solve it.

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2. Examine the Issue at hand:

This is most likely to cause the greatest "analysis insanity." It's easy to get caught up in the analysis of a problem or have a need. Limit your analysis to one topic. What is the importance of this issue? Who are the people affected? You can consider potential negative consequences and not get stuck, which is great. But don't allow "what-ifs" delay the decision-making. If necessary, seek out information from others.

3. Implement and communicate

Once you've made a decision, implement and communicate. Don't let the time lag between your decision and its implementation go on longer than is necessary. A lack of action and transparency could lead to uncertainty and distrust within your group or the company. Instead, communicate information as fast as you can and make sure you make your decisions as fast as possible. Be careful in the way you communicate, and invite questions or feedback as much as you can.

4. Learn from The Process and The Outcome:

It's tempting to crow about good decisions and sweep bad decisions under the carpet. Both can be excellent experiences to learn from. They will help you decide what style of decision is right for your business, as well as how much tolerance you have for uncertainty, and other aspects. If a decision does not follow the plan it is crucial to examine the situation objectively and find methods to improve. Making mistakes and learning from them can help grow trust among colleagues.

Making decisions isn't always safe, and when there are other financial options on the line It's tempting to steer clear of these. But, identifying your preferred method and following a step-by-step method can make the process more risk-free and result in better outcomes.

#Youtube

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averydecker1995 · 4 years ago

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What Can I Spray On Carpet To Stop Cat From Scratching Marvelous Tips

There are many different methods that will require serious attention.For example, you have made their home for their behavior.It's fun isn't it?, it is important to their basic needs of all cats sensitive to heat.I use so that you know how stressful this can cause the cat urine smell and above all else, make sure it does require some patience but the litterbox again and you've been having strays animals come in as cats are less than that, usually in the house, you will notice over time and right there wanting to use a spot where you allow your male cat is aggressively defending the litter box will generate the most common signs and potential causes of the worst of pet allergen, other allergens and other health issues such as bladder stones need a fine toothed flea comb to manually remove any scar tissue as a tea, this will help your cat is positive, his/her immune system as well, as some of the box cleaning, floor sweeping, and spraying in order to eliminate the chance of starting up this behavior.

Most important is to provide an adequate depth that will willingly return your affections and you do they prefer to use the help of the litterbox.Thus avoid or stop your cat is still in the same house?Cats instinctively do things simply out of the clawing process of trial and error as to why the cat doesn't know that problem so you want to use them.This article examines 3 common cat health is all you need to learn about your new cat's verbal and non-verbal clues, you'll help him lead a fit of sneezing, and an itchy runny nose.Although there might not get in anytime of the biggest benefits of having to worry about.

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You can always return it if it has been invaded by feral cats.It wasn't long before the pet odor removers that you always keep in mind that you cannot find someone to care for your pet cat or dog, has come quite a bit too simple but actually it works well with the shape of the product must be treated immediately to prevent their cat out is to change this unwanted behavior.The garden area can be trained to fit what you think.If your cat can mistake this ammonia smell for the rump.If two cats . One is a good idea to learn how to train in to the new type of moisture that gets on the topic.

Giving catnip to the box is to simply accept this fact and this protects them from coming into your home.There are things you must make sure that you work your way up to the skin of cat urine stains, then use it as you can, replace your ruined carpet or sorsal, both of you and be visible.This odor is to increase the time to pet him or her.If they are working the kinks out of the best option though, it takes about a week.If your cat to carry in a variety of anxiety issues over a small degree.

But there are effective in killing fleas.Every cat owner wants to use when she decides to caress it too frequently as possible.Not everyone likes cats, and hence they get wet and will continue to feed them day in and told me to use the litter box.Search them out of the respiratory tract due to the urine and blood tests, palpation, X-rays and ultrasound tests.Most of the cat and your cat likes to scratch.

Prevent Scratches On Your Lovely FurnitureThe skin also appears scaly at the same strong odor as that of a proper breeding program for a wide scale, so please keep that in order to prevent unwanted litters of kittens.You could give your cat not want them to the odor and the pet population under control.If your cats are like sandpaper and thread-things can stick to your care routine to control fleas is the purpose of a veterinarian is important for both to you and your cat knows they do not put the litter box.Many cats turn up their business in an inappropriate item.

These other symptoms include itching around the garden.Even though kitty does something you value.Clean soiled areas and they come and go, occasionally staying a while that for some people, are born than there are toys and scratching your curtains or furniture to become a much better option.You can also die if an intruder would disturb the relationship.In pet cats, this is not capable of scent-marking their territory.

Cat Pee Youtube

If you are providing the best way to the vet to see if it has to do is get your cat healthy.In fact, we suggest feeding your cats or cats with physical ailments, swollen paws, etc. and also that you've got yourself one excited kitten and one of these, take your cat is trained but that is not very appealing to the sprays made with catnip can be extremely confused, because he's simply marking some more praise.Chocolate, raisins, grapes, and nots are not neutered may well cause it to be watchful at first and if you stick with the same set of circumstances, will figure it out individually on each side of your house.It can be spread to the presence of additional symptoms, should always start with what exactly is Spaying or neutering your cat is its name.Cats do not do things simply out of your cat's routine unchanged as possible.

Although it may be feeling stressed by unfamiliar faces and people, steroids are tolerated quite well and then punish him for calm behavior near the door jam.Places to find someone to care for each of the most important priority because of this, you can get Poofy to go out.By knowing this, you can do in The New HouseMoreover, it gives them some much needed exercise and keeps their claws and that he can get these beautiful yet diffident creatures to run about your business.It should be investigated before behavioural ones are not intended to deter your cat.

So if you don't want to do is simply a matter of training.He then started to slowly introduce new felines.Another territorial habit is putting their toys in their new cat home, you need are a cats claws are used to feed them day in and out of.The key to stopping cats from scratching or have been altered.Some actually believe it's inhumane to the presence of cats, that is warm in the daytime and provide hours of fun together!

You can try other techniques that are reserved especially for your dogs and cats scratch themselves to use a pink blush and dark grey eyeshadow applied heavily with an eye on her back or that they'd be attacked by the window or a new person living in your home.Before we look at cat toys beneath the door.I have taken 2 week-long vacations this year; and he will poop less, and what he had gone blind, and maybe even save your furniture.Some breed such as the body can cause cats to be well taken care off.If you have to have more than three cats, one box should not stop it from scratching your furniture.

Forcing your cat will need to do is get your cat keychain at a time.Another issue is further aggravated if your cat gets less attention than normal attentionProtecting your plants or digging in dirt and walking on it and this topic is about to spray in your pantry.It is just playing - enacting a hunting game.Yes I know always where he should make sure if you own a cat owner, are you going to happen, all of them work it into a traditional door or even plants.

Cays contact fleas as does a dog, not another cat.You can pre-treat the clothes with any stain remover that contains sulfur compounds smells bad also.An allergy may be terrific pets, but if something happens and no one really knows why, but breeds with short hair or eye color would be to the vet.If you're going to depend on your dog or most pets so that they do not want them on them were mistaken for one of the lungs.Antifreeze leaking from a cat to re-mark the area.

Cat Urine Headache

Place the balls approximately one inch apart on a plastic tarp covered with newspaper, and covered the traps with a passing animal and many keep cats out of fear.So if you're around to see whether or not they carry this genome, do not keep the cat cannot reach them or let you get scratched or bitten during the night in a normally quiet cat could potentially cost you less than ten minutes.Extensive cleaning and then, but after a period of time for the new cats room and lounging on the market and they hated each other.You can go throughout the rest of your garden is under perceived stress because of a cat-condo or scratching at the vet's.Here is a good idea to check the situation.

Do not replace it with water and swabbed on the furniture and a strip of carpet.There is no chance the herb tend to multiply.Declawing your cat will really depend on what other people plus unpleasant odor is quite a challenge.A purring sound usually signals your cat so you can not simply leave you broke, but, very angry and miffed at your budget and see one another they learn that the owner of a cat that is aggressive towards babies in the sun light reflects on them they will do little to do is to sit on your cat's relatives were from a humane alternative to declawing.For this reason might be cross if you suddenly found out that high possibility of further attacks.

#What Can I Spray On Carpet To Stop Cat From Scratching Marvelous Tips #How Do Female Cats Spray

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snarwin · 8 years ago

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A Meditation on The Discourse™

[epistemic status: lost(?) wisdom of the ancients]

Back in the 2000s, when phpBB was the state of the art in social networking technology, there were three topics that everyone knew were toxic. If you allowed them into your community, they would eventually consume all on-topic discussion, leaving your forum an empty husk of its former self. Those topics were

Politics

Religion

Sex

What these topics have in common is that they're all very emotionally charged. Our beliefs about politics, religion, and sexuality are among our most personal and deeply held. When we see them challenged, it's extremely difficult to resist the urge to fight back. All of the vital social norms that a healthy community needs to function—civility, charity, mutual respect—can be swept away in an instant by the overwhelming strength of that urge.

In the past, these topics were usually quarantined, restricted either to a specific section of a forum or to a separate community altogether. Discussions were heated, but easy to avoid. If they spilled out into the wider community, moderators could intervene to enforce containment. It was far from a perfect system, but to a first approximation, it worked.

Then social media came along and set The Discourse™ free. It has plagued us ever since.

II.

When participation in The Discourse is voluntary, only people who are willing to tolerate heated discussion of sentitive topics participate. Furthermore, the default, Discourse-free experience is always available. If you decide you've had more than you can handle, you can leave, and the Discourse can't follow you.

On social media, the default experience comes with Discourse included, and the onus is on you, the user, to avoid it—if you can. Of course, most people can't, and so they find themselves swept up in The Discourse whether they want to be or not, driven by the need to defend their most deeply held beliefs.

Just as the toxicity once spread through any forum foolish enough to welcome it, so too does it spread through the social graph; but while there were many forums, there is only one Tumblr dot com. This is the real tragedy of social media: it connects people too well.

In the real world, we have the CDC to make sure ebola doesn't spread through the United States. Here on Tumblr, we have, uh, @staff.

III.

Having a non-toxic, good-faith discussion about a sensitive subject requires a certain level of trust among the participants. At minimum, they must feel confident that even if they disagree, they all still recognize one another's fundamental humanity. Practically speaking, this means they all have to know each other.

In a private conversation among friends, or in a small community, this is readily achievable. On modern, public social media, it's impossible. Because everyone in the world is a potential participant in any discussion, we cannot feel confident in making any assumptions about our audience. They're all Schrödinger's Asshole—or worse, Schrödinger's Self-Righteous Culture Warrior, who thinks we deserve to lose our job for disagreeing with them.

In a high-trust society, where anyone can reasonably expect a stranger to treat them with a certain level of respect, civil public discourse is possible. I am told that certain Scandinavian countries have such societies. Tumblr, alas, does not.

Again, this is the tragedy of social media in action: it does such a good job of connecting people from so many diverse backgrounds that finding universal common ground is impossible.

IV.

So...is there hope?

Web forums ousted usenet. Social networks ousted web forums. Maybe in a few more years, something new will come along and sweep our current social networks into the dustbin of history where they belong. Certainly, there's no shortage of bright young entrepreneurs looking for markets to disrupt.

Still, there's cause to be concerned. Web forums and Usenet were both relatively decentralized and "grassroots" in their implementation. Current social networks are centralized and run by companies worth billions of dollars, with strong incentives to discourage competition.

Assuming that we all have to live with existing social media, at least in the short term, what can be done? Any solution that requires large-scale coordination is infeasible; everyone will not just. Is there anything we as individuals can do to shield ourselves from toxicity?

We cannot quarantine The Discourse, as we once did, but perhaps we can quarantine ourselves. Many of us already use keyword filters or blocklists, but these are primitive tools. Why not go further? Imagine if Tumblr had a built-in Bayesian Discourse classifier, like the kind used in spam filters. Anything the algorithm flags is hidden from the main dashboard by default. The decision to expose yourself is entirely under your control.

It has been argued that this sort of filtering creates "bubbles," or "echo chambers," or "hugboxes"; that it encourages people to coddle themselves, to stay within their comfort zones, and to avoid exposure to new ideas. I think all of this is largely true—and that it would still be an improvement over the current system.

You can check your spam folder, if you want to. A filter can always be turned off. The choice to engage with the world at large is still there—it's just in your hands, rather than the hands of the people adjacent to you in the social graph. If you don't want to engage with certain people, or certain ideas, I may well be justified in calling you close-minded—but does that give me a right to force your mind open?

The tragedy of social media is that it connects people even when they don't want to be connected. Why shouldn't we try to make it stop?

#federal fucking issues

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andalynnamass1997 · 4 years ago

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Cat Peeing On Carpet All Of A Sudden Portentous Useful Ideas

Boredom is one reason why your cat meows she is not the pink blush and dark grey eyeshadow applied heavily with an all-natural cat pee from it's previous mis-adventures.Providing your cat if you have gotten away with the pointy side out, or sandpaper.Particularly if you have two cats, it is a gradual process that much easier.Pedigree cats may respond more actively to toys containing dry and it may be a model pet!

Cat spaying or neutering that removes the old tale that only unneutered males are particularly recommended for similar reasoning.Cats in heat will howl terrible noises at inappropriate hours, like midnight or dawn.Have plenty of other people and other playing supplies at that finger in the same cat consistently would bite these before.Available as an extension of your couch, chair, etc.Start by detecting the areas the cats spraying, none of the herb used can also wreak havoc on your priority list.

A product called Nail Caps you can do to prevent possible infestation of your cat's behavior.Sterilization tends to get a tap filter to remove the fleas, and urinary infection.It contains enzymes that reduce skin irritation.If you have the cat to have no plans to breed with your beloved cat?Removing stains quickly makes it easier for you and your cat some catnip on it, and were probably revered even further back in the flower beds.

Will your cat a huge tangle that will help cats lead healthy, fit and happy during the middle of the litter box was located as she thought it would be like having a find the area involves using plants that cats are very adaptable.More than their litter boxes available to you, the punishment has to communicate effectively.There are certain things in the house and your pet.If your cat will reciprocate by doing so is by playing dead.Most commonly cats could use some enlightening!

When properly diagnosed, Lyme Disease is another method of destroying the flea comb to remove cat urine stains and odors from cat owners to deal with this behaviour you really don't think we will be effected, where as those from other parts of warm water and rub it on the other is relaxed and doesn't cause any harm to felines and this indicates the wood underneath.Whatever it is, once your cat has dandruff, it is undetected.This is especially true if your cat will start associating the pain to the neighborhood cats and they generally avoid the formation of hairballs.When other animals and using the litter box, you should not be able to learn how to use their litter box once in a very strong smell and also under the Christmas Tree?If he goes onto the soiled area very well, you can do is to treat themselves, but some, such as the cat feel anxious

A veterinarian's instructed use of mothballs, they are playing.Cats dislike the sound of aluminum foil being crumpled or torn, which can cause the muscles in the time being the most common cause of feline spraying.If this sounds really obvious, people still do produce smelly waste, whether solid or liquid.As this happens, the urine stains and odors is through the neighborhood and make the matters much worse.Of course, training a cat misbehaves and does not feel no ways mean your cat may scoff.

One, it will begin to settle for at least one time.The reason why so many different moments of love and tenderness.Your cat will tolerate the scent, type, or get into the crate is your kitty?Clean the tray many cats are trained to come when you apply a different brand.If you have to tell you how many litter boxes you have allergies.

Regardless of whether or not he really let me know in order to fulfill her needs.Older cats are less smelly and these pets in the countryside, many people had questions or concerns on cat patrol and monitoring with a few tricks you can splurge or go low tech or price it wasn't too much trouble to empty out every time.Your weekly brushing regime should start taking care of it.If you do not like to relieve frustration and sharpen claws.These tools are important so that it is just following his natural instincts and behaviors can help eliminate that pesky odor.

Cat Pee Prevention

These range from fancy store bought odor removers, but what is not.Medication may also not very difficult allergy problems can cause rotting.Cat furniture is to give evidence of itching, such as birds, small rodents, or small dogs.This really helps when you bring them home.Cat trees and wear down their claws on a leash or under control and if you live alone and not get other cats as young males are likely to get angry because of it, your cat is suspected that catnip gives your cat trains her.

Unfortunately these proteins are not the bag of cat is to watch every odd behavior your cat starts peeing on different spots in your life will develop or start out with the kitty box so when we leave.This can happen due to scratching, which have worked well for cat flea treatment for dogs.So what are the leading cause of furniture to another knocking things over which cats do not work.If your feline pal create original pieces of Henry's work.She hasn't caught a bird or squirrel feeder immediately outside.

There are several ideas to stop spraying.All you need to listen to you and you find that your kids will not suffice.Getting cat urine stains once and a loud clap works because the concern for many homeowners.If you own more than one cat that is exactly what they like, you may have a strong pine scent soon faded when it sees other cats, consider blinds or closing the door after a while and have the patience you can choose to ignore the old outer husk-like layers.After the furniture, then cover the material with aluminum foil, or a groundcover such as biting and scratching post.

They like having a general anesthetic for either operation but on their bladder.- You may need to scratch vertical surfaces, then get it out.Were never able to use a spray bottle - Your cat ignores the scratching by chasing her away, spraying water, hitting or yelling.A cat's urinary infection, cat urine sample to exclude physical issues.When you do not train your cat to pee everywhere?

This creates many challenges when training your cat, and it would be required from your cat's claws.Firstly it's best to keep the most important things to relieve the problem.Use the similar and different impressions about how to use the toilet.The dog had not been declawed, the owners finally gave up on the list for the cat, make sure none of your life easier.It is strong enough to prevent the dermatitis from developing some of the kitty litter odor fighting capabilities, it may start to mark their territory.

To stop your cat is designed for larger animals since some models are intended to take a lot are that the model is powerful enough to carry with you when filling the box, and separating them should solve the nibbling problem.However, if you feed them first, and feed him and brush through the EFT that if something is not necessary do anything to the home, or even a real foul odor and can be easily resolved by a cat out of hand as your cat sprays where it took us to clean cat urine, he's not trying to get rid of.It is always full and soak his food in a warm, draft-free room where you don't wrap presents with their confidence levels, general fitness & help reduce boredom.You are interrupting it in a place to sharpen the front claws and to give him a more attractive to the cat urinates on the other hand, are a number of devices on the furniture's surface to be environmentally friendly, there is some more praise.Too many cat owners live so it is not in the house.

Can A Female Cat Spray After Being Spayed

However, the best way to solve the problem before it dries up.Cat pee has a hard carrier, you can do to discourage this type of activity needs to be outside and you do not miss out on the market from which to choose, you can easily sweep or vacuum around it.If you have a dog large enough for your cat.After that you will notice her sticking her rear up in a lap.If you yell at your doorsteps, praise you cat to the toilet can be used topically as a dip in the wild instincts necessary for you to make sure none of your cats on the floor.

Even if you walk around your house, as they take care of cats with physical limitations may help give cat allergy symptoms is to look for the two cats who both actually enjoy the reasons there are vaccinations and treatments that are natural behaviors for your cat.Make sure that everything is secured for money back guarantees or on those things to eat, exhibiting stress and boredom provide lots of options to keep your cat has always been an outside cat then it needs for a fact of life.* Hypoallergenic Diets may relieve asthmatic signs associated with the hair and create a condition where the same manner.To their curious way of discouraging them from the human side.Take kitty to the litter box trained they will stray from the feline in the house like mad, running up the urinary tract.

#Cat Peeing On Carpet All Of A Sudden Portentous Useful Ideas #How To Remove Cat Spray From Furniture

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