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kris-tyne · 7 months ago

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this is so important, i was shocked when i saw only 6 notes.

Chromebooks are killing tech literacy alarmingly fast. Before Chromebooks, it was iPads. Before iPads, there were actual towers being used. It’s absolutely true that everything being a website is hurting students- nobody has to have programs on their computers anymore. I’m a computer science major and I can barely take care of my file management.

Chromebooks were whipped up by Google to be produced by as many computer manufacturers (Dell, Lenovo, HP, etc) as possible in order to be mass produced and sold to schools for dirt cheap, so that schools will pay them (Google) rather than some other company. That’s all they’re good for.

CIPA (Children’s Internet Protection Act) has obviously good intentions- force schools to provide web filters to keep students from coming across harmful content- pornography, age restricted content, shudder reddit, but what it actually does is what it did to me: makes students find ways around the web blocker (that could be more efficient if it were a local program rather than a google extension), including vpn’s, proxies, and suspicious sites that can risk the school system being exposed to malicious software.

i found ways around this and i played pokemon games and i used the internet freely and i used chat rooms to talk with my friends.

all instead of doing schoolwork. why? because there was a challenge. a fundamental flaw with the way the school systems use tech. it became a challenge for me to always get ahead of the web blocker, to prove to the school system and to stick it to google and their chromebooks and tell them they can’t beat me.

by my senior year of high school, i was using web-based vmware (microsoft azure) to emulate windows. i had pure and total control over my computer, and they couldn’t do anything about it. and sure, i got tech literacy from browsing the internet and finding ways to download files and run apps, but most people aren’t me. most people didn’t have that chance to tinker with their chromebook and figure out the way it runs.

all because google wanted a fast way to make money and to profit off of the loss of tech literacy.

it’s becoming evident now that these companies knew exactly what they were doing. apple and google phones are now plagued with crap like tracking, selling data, and bloatware, all to make you buy their product. and you don’t know, because you’ve always been told to trust the makers of the tech, they know what’s best.

right to repair. right to own.

learn your tech. know what companies are doing. fight the death of tech literacy.

I need to Scream about ChromeOS

It's been a long week and this is something I can rant about without doxxing myself too much.

So I teach kids about computers. And before anyone says 'But they're the technology generation, they know all about it!' remember that you didn't know how to drive a car before you were 16, and cars have been around for over a century. But I digress.

You know why Kids don't know anything about computers? Because we've set them up with the *worst possible computer* to learn about computers on: Chromebooks. Yeah, yeah pandemic and learning form home and all that, but this started well before the pandemic; Shutdowns just exacerbated it.

Chromebooks are designed to be simple. But they're *designed to be simple*. I want to teach kids how to read a file system? Google Drive is all they got. Want to teach kids how to check computer specs and how well their computer is currently running? Nope-you *might* be able to check the RAM if you're lucky. Diagnose how much space is left on your storage? Good luck; Drive doesn't even show how much space they have left. Compare and Contrast different applications for a particular use? It's the Chrome Store or nothing. The entire environment is designed to be a glorified web browser. You never leave the Chrome environment.

There's no native apps on the Chromebooks because they have all the memory and internal storage of a 6 year old with ADHD. Everything has to be through a web browser, and since most of my students are elementary age they can't really make accounts for most stuff without their native school account which, guess what? is through Google. The whole system is designed to be as simple to use with as few buttons as possible. Which, as a teacher managing hundreds of kids, is helpful to a point. But it holds the kids back just as much. When something goes wrong, it's so simple that you feel like an idiot for not being able to figure out what went wrong. There's no room for troubleshooting or critical thinking here.

Oh, and by the way the entire OS is designed at a basic level to be readable by kids who *know how to read*. Teaching the lowest levels how to log in, click on a link for TypingClub or read basic instructions can be grueling. Google Classroom is optimal for middle school and maybe 9th grade and that's about it. They use touchscreens for everything, so it's hard to get them to learn to use a mouse in the first place. (It's also aesthetically ugly, but that's my personal opinion)

There also seems to be fewer resources or standards for teaching about computers; my state's standards are very comprehensive from a programming or analysis standpoint, less so from a 'they should be able to type X words per minute' or 'be able to format a report' or 'write an email with neutral tone' or 'be able to move a file from Google Drive to a flash drive,' stuff that Every student should know how to do. Stuff that most adults take for granted because they were either taught or grew up in an age where everyone had to figure it out for themselves because there were no teachers yet.

And, while this is a more niche one because I don't know how most schools operate, Chromebooks just add to the student's load. They haul them back and forth to EVERY class and were 'supposed to replace textbooks', yet somehow they still have a mountain of textbooks they haul around in a wheeled backpack because *there's so many books they can't use a normal one*. I helped a student lift their bag the other day and it must have weighed 20 lbs! (Definitely more than the car battery I had to haul home from the store, but that's another story.)

I have accounts for kids that can't even spell their own last name yet, let alone know how to type. It's hard to teach about computer security when half the school needs to have a sticker with the username and passwords for up to 4(!!!) different online accounts for various programs. And kids will share that information anyway because they don't think anything major of it yet, and half the time it's not hard to figure out.

(This isn't even getting into side tools and peripherals to teach kids about computers. Anything you want/find is niche and will be extremely expensive)

So how would I fix this? (Because I don't like to rant about something when I can't offer a solution.)

Get them on actual computers and not glorified web browsers.

Assess whether or not Chromebooks are helping students in the classroom or just creating more work. Their primary use should be in the event of a shutdown or virtual school day to allow all students to work from home regardless of personal computers.

Build an Operating System/UI that's designed to grow with the student: Kindergarten and 1st grade are primarily picture based, larger cursor, as little clicking as possible to get to activities. More options and standardized UI appear as the student grows until high school where it's a normal system.

Actual Standards. Not just 'this is a monitor' (Most of my students didn't know this) and 'Here's how to program a thing' (Which is fun, but can be advanced) but 'How to save my work' 'How to write an e-mail' and 'what is a file type?' A minimum typing speed should also be required.

Keyboards designed to teach how to type. Colored keys, letters in a font that match the typing program, maybe a bit bigger than a normal keyboard. And to wrap it up, some fun quotes from my students: "That's not a Computer, that's a PC!"

"That's a TV!" (It's a monitor)

"You're doing a writing challenge? Why don't you just use AI?"

"Ms. Teacher, (That's exactly what they call me) I found a weird thing!" (It was their Drive.)

"Why did you paint all those?" (I pass a hard drive around so kids can see it. They all sniff the yellow paint I sprayed it with last week.)

"I wanna play the ice cream game." (There is no Ice Cream game. They just want to play random internet games)

(Students sign out by turning off the computer)

(A student looks up a minecraft video on YT because he wasn't paying attention when I gave out instructions and thought I wouldn't notice.)

Next rant: The double standards of 'forbidding the use of AI' for students while using it behind the scenes for teachers.

#right to repair #tech literacy #tech #technology #teaching #teacher #chromebook #google #tech tag

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asterroidd · 4 years ago

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tempt fortune

↬ Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

↬ Word count: 4.5k

↬ Warning/s: swearing, mentions of sex, alcohol, slight NSFW (?)

↬ Synopsis: Too deep in an argument with Hange in attempts to prove you are—in fact—not a virgin, you’ve accidentally lied blurted out that you and Levi are in a relationship.

↬ Notes: Tysm for the request anon! I had way too much fun with this prompt lol.

↬ Minors do not interact. Go away, shoo shoo!

8th prompt: “I can’t believe you told them you were my fiancé.”

The night was murky and dark with only the shine of the moon serving as a way to illuminate the streets of the city. Trees stripped bare as a sign of the forthcoming change of seasons, and a milky white fog had encompassed the city’s canals and dark alleyways. The crisp, cold air makes the hair on your skin stood up and shiver despite the layers of clothing you wore.

Though, that feeling will dissipate away as soon as the bitter taste of alcohol hits your taste buds and enter your system.

Earlier that day, Hange and Petra had invited you to a night out to the local pub to wash away the fears and tension of being soldiers of the Survey Corps. A guilty pleasure of some sort, just a way to rid the jitters of being eaten by a titan outside the walls. Despite the three of you being veterans, neither of you could ever shake the feeling of death’s cold hands resting on top of your shoulder.

That said, two of your best friends walked alongside you. Arms hooked with one another for warmth and for comfort. Soon enough, the three of you arrived at the destined place: the pub.

There are a couple of tables already taken, but the place is not too full. Even with that, the pub is still quite energetic; with men hollering and throwing their heads back as they chat with one another, weak threats that are carelessly thrown around by drunk individuals looking for a mock fight, and of course the iconic clink of glasses against one another as toast.

“What are we drinking tonight?” Petra asked. She claimed a seat at an empty table, in which you and Hanji followed suit.

“Whiskey!” Hange announced to which brought a grin on your face.

"Getting wasted, I see.“ You shrugged your jacket off and placed it neatly by your side. "Isn’t it Petra’s turn to treat us?”

The female in question instantly whipped her head to face you, a shocked look evident on her face. “I don’t recall making such promises.”

"You sure did!“ Hanji added. "We made a bet weeks ago. Debating whether or not Erwin grooms his eyebrows every morning.”

"In which we won, by the way.“ you said with a smug look on your face. "The commander does indeed groom it and even has a special comb for it.”

“Not fair!” Petra pouted, pushing her bottom lip out and giving Hange the puppy dog eyes in attempts to save her poor wallet. Which was futile, the brunette stuck her tongue out and shook her head. While Petra and Hange continued with their debacle, you took it upon yourself to call the attention of a barmaid. She gave you a beaming smile, her golden locks neatly tied into a bun and crow’s feet visible beneath her eyes. She approached the table wherein the three of you are situated.

“Two bottles of whiskey and three mugs please,” you spoke, not even bothering to wait for her to speak up. She nodded before strolling towards the counter to prepare your order.

Petra slumped her weight onto the table as she heaved a sigh in defeat. “Fine. It’s my treat tonight.”

You and Hange cheered in delight, successfully evading a huge loss of money given that whiskey is quite expensive. The continuous catastrophic storms that beleaguered the farmlands had made an extensive disastrous effect on the supply of barley and wheat. Which, like a domino effect, limits the supply of whiskey within the walls. Increasing the price of the said beverage more than two-fold.

It was a good thing that you put faith in your instincts and thus won the bet.

“How’s the research going, Hanji?” Petra changed the topic.

The brunette let out a drained sigh, “Levi had to kill Hughes.”

“Hughes?” You piped in. “The eight-meter class aberrant titan we caught last time?”

Hange nodded, “He was a good man. An honest man.” She spoke of the titan as if it was her long lost husband that died in a war.

Then, she started blabbering on and on about the experiments she had done to the beast; piercing its eye to count the regeneration time, plucking one of its teeth out to see if it would disintegrate, and many more.

You would’ve stopped her then and there if it weren’t for the barmaid approaching your table with a tray of glass and two bottles of whiskey. You internally cheered, Hange had told stories about Hughes a couple of times already that you basically had memorized it all.

The three of you wasted no time in popping one of the bottles and pouring the bitter liquid into the cups.

"To friendship. And condolences to Petra’s wallet.“ You raised your glass up to which the two mirrored. With one satisfying clink of the glass, you swallowed down its contents in one gulp. Your face contorting in an unattractive expression as the alcohol slid down your throat.

"I was planning to buy a book that I wanted. But it looks like it would have to wait for the time being,” Petra said, pouring another glass of whiskey.

"Pshh,“ your brunette friend snorted. "You have Oluo to buy anything you want.”

Instantly, blood rushed to Petra’s face upon hearing the male’s name.

You joined in the teasing. “Oh yeah. You two are a thing. Now, aren’t you?”

“We’re not!” your friend slammed her fists on the wooden table. “We’re just friends!”

“Oh really?” Hange swished the whiskey around the glass. “That’s not what I heard the other night.”

She leaned in close to whisper. “I heard moans coming out of his room.”

Petra sucked in a breath in shock, her eyes widening in shock and mouth slightly agape. “I- it’s not…it’s–” she said but she was a stuttering mess.

“Already in that stage, I see.” You playfully nudged her. It was an ongoing comical joke in the base that Oluo and Petra are in a romantic relationship after the male flat out publicly confessed to her one night in the mess hall. The room immediately erupted in a mess as howls and catcalls are heard. Ever since then, both of them are continuously teased.

“Say, (____)…” Hange trailed off, her fingers curling around the shot glass. Gulping the remaining liquid down her throat before continuing, “Are you a virgin?”

You let out an inhumane sound in shock. Borderline choking as you tried to swallow down the whiskey caught in your throat. Petra saw your discomfort in which she assisted you by lightly patting you on the back as you coughed air out.

“What kind of question is that?” you said after your body stopped jerking.

Hanji gave you a lop-sided smile. “Just that we are nearing our thirties. Who knows when we’ll breathe our final breath? The least we could do is experience getting laid before that happens.”

“Well, are you a virgin?” You answered with a question.

Hange rests her chin on top of her open palm. “Nope, though it was a one night stand.”

You sweat buckets, you never had someone popped your cherry before, let alone a serious relationship that is romantic.

Are you the only one left that hasn’t got laid?

But it’s not your fault! You were just too caught up with military services that love never crossed your mind

Or did it?

Your mind wanders off to daydream about the small and petty crush you have with a certain captain.

There is just something so captivating about the way his silver eyes met yours the first time you saw him. How his raven hair looks neat every time and you could only guess how soft it would be to touch. Not to mention his impeccable skill with the 3dmg maneuver gear and its blades.

Yes, it was none other than Captain Levi himself. But it was all just a petty crush! A small rosebud of admiration that had blossomed as you fought alongside the male and got to know him better each passing day.

“Well?” Hange snapped you out of your thoughts. “Have you or have you not gotten laid?”

You cleared your throat, you didn’t want to look foolish in front of your friends. Given that the two of them had their own fair share of experience in the topic. They would tease the hell out of you and soon enough, the whole base would do as well.

Lieutenant (____), the virgin soldier. You don’t want things to be that way.

“O-of course I did,” you puffed your chest out more to elicit fake confidence.

Petra cooed, “Really? With who?”

You thought of the closest male in your personal bubble. “Levi!”

To say that the two were shocked was an understatement. They were both flabbergasted. Never in a million years would they expect that you and Levi had a relationship, let alone sexual intercourse. The two, in fact, never saw him and you close enough that would draw out a romantic vibe. So they are completely blown away and confused at the same time.

“Bullshit,” Hange said. “Shorty is one lonely man that has no love in his system.”

“I-is too!” you stuttered out, hand flailing around in panic. “In fact, he is my fiancé.”

Okay, that might be a stretch.

Petra slammed her hands against the table to which garnered half of the customers’ attention. “Get out! No way!”

“Yes way!” You countered. So far so good, now all you had to do is convince them that you and Levi are actually a thing. Which was easier said than done since you would need to bribe or annoy the male enough that he would give in to your pleas.

Though, Hange is still unimpressed as evident with her pouting lips and furrowed eyebrows. “Prove it then, show us that the shorty and you are actually a thing. I would bet half of my salary this month if you could show us that Levi is capable of love.”

“Bring it on four-eyes!”

And so begins the downfall of your life.

Levi had a sick feeling in his gut; a hunch that for the next few hours, he would have a shitty day. However, he couldn’t say for sure what would cause such disturbance to his day. His gut feelings were never wrong, it was an innate sense that he had ever since he lived in the Underground. So he was sure something would happen, he’d have to be more careful.

That said, he instantly regretted the way he jinxed himself.

There you are, standing outside of his office at two in the morning. Your fingers fiddled with the hem of your shirt, constantly shifting your weight from one foot to another as you refuse to make eye contact with Levi. Bashful eyes kept staring down at your feet whilst you find the words to make one coherent sentence.

“I have something important to discuss with you,” you murmured to which Levi quirked a brow. What did you want now that it couldn’t wait until the sun rose up in the sky?

The male crossed his arms across his chest, leaning his weight on the doorway. “What is it?”

“Please pretend to be my lover.”

Levi blinked, his eyes widening and mouth hanging open slightly. Though, he regained back his usual composure in a split second. He narrowed his eyes at you.

You want him to do what now? Is this some kind of prank or sick joke that you thought of?

Taking note of his silence, you decided to explain to him your situation that needs his immediate cooperation and attention.

“You see…” you sucked in a breath. “I kind of lied to Hange and Petra that I got laid and it was you who actually took my virginity. Hange didn’t believe a word that I said and uhh-… Things got out of hand and I told them I was your fiancé.”

What?

Levi sighed through his nose, an exasperated expression on his face. “So this is what it’s all about.”

“Yes. And now I need you to play along and pretend to be my significant other.”

The male scrunched his face up in disgust, “I can’t believe you told them you were my fiancé.”

You fought back a sob, “Please. I beg of you, Levi.”

“No.” Levi shook his head. “No way. Don’t drag me in your own bullshit.”

The male was about to close his door but you grabbed him by his sleeve. Clutching on it until your knuckles turned white. You couldn’t just let him shut you out without agreeing to play along. You’d do whatever it takes just to get Levi to pretend to be your lover.

"I’ll buy you the expensive black tea.“

His ears twitched, now that piqued Levi’s interest. You smirked as he froze, you knew that he has a soft spot for tea. And tasty, expensive ones at that matter.

Levi chewed on his bottom lip while he pondered over his next words. The male was supposed to be keeping his hands busy by signing and writing the documents that started to pile high up on top of his desk due to Hanji dumping her workload on him. Levi sighed through his nose, fingers massaging his temple. "How long?”

“What?” You tilted your head to the side.

“Tch.” Levi clicked his tongue. “How long do I need to pretend to be your lover?”

Levi swore that the minute he let go of those words, stars danced in your eyes.

"We just need to convince the others.“

"And then?” He asked.

"And then? What. . ?“

Levi internally groaned and rolled his eyes. Was it really worth the risk?

"Are you expecting that we keep the act up?”

Oh, so that is what he meant by it.

"Well,“ you rubbed your chin with your fingers in deep thought. "We could stop the acting after a few weeks? We’ll just tell them we’re too busy and shit that we couldn’t maintain the relationship anymore.”

Levi shrugged. “Sounds good enough to me.”

You squealed in delight as you threw your arms around his neck, showering him with gratitude and compliments.

Looks like black tea does the trick.

The sun already rose from its slumber, showering the lands with its soft rays of light. Levi had a scowl ever-present on his face as soon as he stepped out of his office room. He knew that something was wrong. Something out of place as he sensed the change in the atmosphere of the base that would normally be heavy and tense.

Still, he persisted on shrugging the thought off and continued with his daily morning routine: which is to quickly brew a cup of tea before the mess hall becomes full with people. Levi walked down the halls, a handful of soldiers are already awake and fully clothed with the Survey Corps uniform. They gave him one brief and firm salute as he passed by them. Though, Levi swore that he could hear them whispering amongst themselves.

When the male arrived at the mess hall, he was surprised to see most of the superiors—along with his squad—are mingling with one another at a table. His mind screamed danger, telling his body to turn around and hide in the comforts of his office. However, Levi wasn’t going to give up his morning cup of tea just because he felt uneasy.

He slid inside like a shadow, going unnoticed by most of his friends that was too energetic today for his tastes. They were chatting loudly about miniscule things; the weather, training later on the day, gear inspection that needs to be done, and the like.

Levi wished that he would be overlooked, that their banter would be noisy enough that he could peacefully grab a cup of tea and run back to his office. Though that wishful thinking of his soon come crashing down when Hange’s cheery voice called out to him.

“Mornin’ shorty! Come sit here beside us! We already have tea brewed for you!”

Levi internally groaned, gripping the empty cup in his hands tighter. The brunette just had to have an innate sense in locating where Levi is. Reluctantly, he left the porcelain behind and walked towards the table. You were nowhere to be found, which was a huge relief for him since Levi doesn’t want to see your face first thing in the morning.

“What’s with the shit-eating grin?” he took a seat beside Erwin.

“(____) told me something important last night,” Hange wiggled her shoulders.

He narrowed his eyes at her, “What do you mean?”

Levi heard Erwin laughing beside him, the blond’s shoulders bouncing up and down. He then placed one palm on top of Levi’s shoulder.

“Congratulations, Levi! Didn’t knew you were engaged.“

Hold the fuck up. What?

Then it dawned on him. He remembered you outside his office in the wee hours of the morning, begging him to play along with your petty bullshit just for the sake of preserving your dignity among your peers.

Levi couldn’t believe that he would start acting right away. He haven’t had a sip of his morning tea.

“Yeah,” he said, eyeing the cup of tea that Eld placed in front of him. Levi doubts that any of them could perfectly brew tea that would meet his standards.

“What?” Oluo joined in the conversation. “So it’s true then?”

Levi grumbled, taking a sip of the leaf infused hot liquid. He relished the dark and malty taste of it sliding down his esophagus before responding. “Any problem with that?”

The male shifted in his seat, “N-no, sir… Just that I am shocked.”

“We all are,” Erwin chuckled. “We never expected it.”

“You are a man of a few words, after all.” Petra added. “Still, we are happy for you, captain!”

Levi stayed silent, if he knew that by accepting your bribery would open Pandora’s box of headache and irritation in his life, then he wouldn’t have agreed to it. Still, he was hopeful that only those close to him are informed of the arrangement. That you wouldn’t go so far as to spread the news around the base.

Scratch that. Everyone knew that Levi is your fiancé.

By the time midday rolled around, Levi was the center of attention much to his displeasure. Of all the years he had served in the military, never did he expect that one small arrangement done at two a.m. would have dire consequences.

All for the black tea. Levi chanted in his mind. Dealing with this bullshit for a box full of expensive black tea.

Whispers could be heard, though he paid no attention to it, dead set on finding you to ask what in the ever-loving fuck is going through your brain for letting everyone know.

Ah, speak of the devil. There you are, by the horses’ stables. Your hands reaching up to caress the nose of your horse, a giggle escaping your lips as its tongue darted out to tickle you.

“(____),” he called out.

You whipped your head around to the sound. Then your smile grew wider as you saw it was Levi.

“Hey!” you replied while wiping your wet hand on a towel. “What’s up?”

The male groaned, you are too casual about it.

“Care to explain why does everyone in the base knew that we are engaged?” The word rolled off his tongue like venom. “I thought it was only Hanji and Petra?”

Your smile wavered down, replaced by a bashful one. “Well uhh-…you see. Hanji kind of started the rumors which quickly spread like wildfire.”

“So it’s not my fault,” you threw your hands up.

Levi sighed exasperatedly. He should’ve known that the source would be four eyes. The brunette had caused more trouble than Levi could count within his fingers. He recounted countless times where she knocked on death’s door willingly when Hange placed her head inside a titan’s mouth. Who does that?

A maniac with a death wish, and that is what Hange is.

“Never mind that,” you trailed off, motioning the male to come closer. He rolled his eyes before obliging. “I have a plan that could finally get Hange off the radar,” you continued.

“And that would be?”

You looked side by side, eyes scanning the surroundings in case someone is eavesdropping. Once you considered the coast was clear, you told Levi the plan. “Hanji would be dropping off a stack of paperwork later this evening.”

Levi doesn’t already like where this is going.

“We could pretend to have sex in your office, loud enough for her to hear it. That for sure would convince her.”

You wanted to do what now?

“Wait, hold on.” Levi shook his head, slowly trying to digest your words. “You want us to have sex?”

“We’re not really going to do it!” you slapped his shoulder blades. “Just create some noise and thuds here and there to make it seem like we are doing it.”

The male internally groaned before hesitantly agreeing with your plan. If it means that this stupid fabrication of a relationship would be done, he’d follow suit.

You could hear the loud pounding of your heart inside your ribcage as you sat on one of the chairs in Levi’s office. Patiently, waiting for the fated moment where Hange would be knocking on the door. Butterflies flew around in your stomach, you couldn’t believe that Levi would actually cooperate with the stupid plan you had just conjured up at a moment’s notice.

The thought of him moaning and grunting made your core burn with desire. As much as you want to calm yourself, you couldn’t help but stir up images and scenes in your mind as to how Levi would look like while having sex. You don’t know which was a better view: him on top of you or you riding him.

Heat rushed to your cheeks at the thought. Why does he have to be so goddamn sexy that you couldn’t resist the man?

“Oi,” Levi called out to you. Though, his eyes never left the paper in his hands as he scanned it. “Quiet down will you? Your foot tapping against the floor irritates me.”

Oh, it was a mindless action of yours when you get too nervous. By bouncing your legs up and down, it helps you calm down and ignore the growing pit of anxiety in your stomach. Nonetheless, you mumbled a quick apology to the male then resorted to fumbling with the collars of your uniform.

Soon enough, you heard the soft humming of Hange outside, her footsteps increasing in sound as she draws near the door. You and Levi looked at each other, it was showtime.

You abruptly stood up, arms flailing around as you glanced between the male and the door. Wait, what do you need to do again? And why is Levi still sitting in his chair and not doing anything?

“Levaii!” Hange knocked. “I got more paperwork for you!”

The doorknob rattled, but you instantly had the metal in your grasp in attempts to keep the female out of the room.

“Huh…?” you could hear Hange utter. “Levi?”

In a panicked state, your mind blanked out as words fail to escape your lips. You shot a pleading look to Levi, to which he rose a brow.

Help me you bitch! You mouthed.

He shot you a confused look. It’s your plan, do it, the male mouthed back.

You gulped down your saliva, shaky hands gripping the doorknob tighter as the brunette jostle it. Time seemed to stop as you suddenly remember one hole in the plan. One important thing that you have overlooked that could potentially blow your cover.

You don’t know how to moan.

A soft whine emanated from your throat. The things you have to do just to preserve your dignity.

“DON’T COME IN! WE’RE uh-… WE’RE HAVING SEX!” you shouted on top of your lungs, too distressed to rethink your words all over again. But now it was too late.

“W-what?” Hange’s voice was muffled by the wooden door.

“Levi. Moan. Now.” You whispered, practically begging the male for his help.

“Why do I have to moan?” he stood up and made his way around the desk to approach you.

“JUST-… Just create one sexual sound! A grunt, a moan, a whine! I don’t care. Just make a sound.”

Levi shot you an irked expression, his nose crinkling up. It’s not that he doesn’t know how to moan (unlike a certain someone), but because he had the initial thought that you would be moaning and Levi would be just hitting the wooden desk over and over again to elicit sex noises. Still, he felt his heart strings being pulled as he looked at your eyes with tears threatening to fall out of them. Your tearducts filled to the brim with the salty liquid. Levi would be a good guy for once, right?

He would surely regret his future actions. Big time.

With a sigh, the male pulled you along with him to the couch. His hands guiding your hips to sit on top of his lap whilst he smashed his lips with yours. Air got caught in your throat as Levi’s hands roamed around—exploring every inch of your body—while his mouth moved in attempts to get yours to move also. You never expected that he would be pressing his lips against yours in a heated dance—a wet one at that matter. Levi’s tongue kept darting and swiping at your bottom lip, which was an oddly delightful sensation that it makes you want to—

“Hngghh…”

Moan.

Your hands curled up, clutching Levi’s shirt and wrinkling it up in the process. Pleasure clouded your mind as hormones took over your system. Testing the waters, you opened your mouth—just a slight—so that his pink muscle could enter your wet cavern. And heavens above, it was such a blissful experience.

Levi exhaled into the kiss to which the air slightly ticked your cheeks. He used one hand to bring your head closer to his so that he could taste more of you, while the other started peeling the jacket off of you, going just past your shoulder blades. A quiet moan slipped past your lips once again.

“Okay, I call bullshit. I am entering,” Hange announced, prying open the doors only to gasp loudly upon seeing the scene before her. “OH. YOU WERE SERIOUS?”

Levi broke away to glare at the brunette, “Tch. Do you mind? Four eyes?”

You are in such a daze that you find yourself staring at Levi’s lips. In that brief moment, you already missed the feeling of his mouth against yours.

The female blinked, too stunned as she stared at the both of you. One powerless lieutenant, with your first few buttons undone and jacket slipping down, sitting on Levi’s lap. Your lower area flush against the male’s ever-growing erection. Not to mention the bewildered expression that you have with a lewd undertone. Hange swore that she saw a string of saliva between yours and Levi’s lips.

“Ah yes. I’ll just place these here, no biggie. Hehe.” The brunette let out an awkward laugh, placing the stacks of paper in the corner of the room. “Have fun you two!”

That said, Hange left the room. Her steps were heavy against the cobblestone floor as she rushed away from the vicinity. A grin on her face as she thought of spreading the news that you and Levi are doing at the moment in his room. Not even minding that she lost the bet with you since you had proved to her that indeed the captain is capable of love. A juicy information such as this is worth half of her salary for the month.

Levi brought your attention to him by kissing you once again. This time, with more force as he pried your mouth open once again with his tongue alone. It was a slippery battle; one-sided, in fact, considering that you weren’t fighting back. You simply let him wrestle with your tongue, yours and his saliva mixing in the process.

Damn, you really couldn’t hold your moan in this time.

“Would you look at that?” Levi pulled away. “You know how to moan, after all.”

You swore, the tips of his lips curled upwards in a small smirk and there was a dark glint in his eyes.

“Wh-Wha—” you were a loss for words. “What did you—…What was that?”

“It’s a kiss, dumbass.”

“That’s not what I meant! Y-your tongue—”

He rose a brow at you. “What about it?”

You sealed your mouth shut, heat rushing to your face in embarrassment. “Just… just don’t do that again.”

Levi kept a firm grip on your waist as you wriggled. “Shut up, you obviously liked it. You even opened your mouth.”

“Did not!”

“Then why did you moaned into the kiss?”

You suck in a breath, cat catching your tongue.

“Though so…” he murmured, diving into your neck to pepper it with light kisses. Head too filled with pleasure, you gripped his shirt in your closed fists as you let out one shaky breath. It takes all of your nerves just to swallow that one moan threatening to come out.

“Hng- Levi. You could stop now, Hange saw us already.”

He hummed, pulling back slightly to gaze into your eyes. There was a hint of lust hidden within his silver orbs. You gulped, finding yourself wrapped around his fingers.

“Why won’t we make your lie come true?” Levi sunk his teeth in your neck.

Guess who is getting laid tonight.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #levi #levi x reader #captain levi #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #reader insert #asters fics

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photiniainsummer · 4 years ago

Text

Out of My Head

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: It's been getting harder and harder to hide your attraction to Wilford the more time you spend together. After a long day of keeping it in, the truth outs.

Sometimes, that's not always for the best.

(second person POV, gender neutral reader, mega fluff to angst, hurt/comfort)

Word Count: 6690 because I can't write short things to save my life

Author’s Note: No warnings except maybe for incredibly brief mentions of alcohol. And Big Wilford Sads cause the man occupies my brain meat with all his angst. Maybe have a sequel in the works that's more comforting - let me know if you'd like that 👀

Also posted to AO3!

It’s finally starting to warm up after an uncommonly chilly spring, and, much like the Host’s tulip bulbs, you and the other residents of the Manor have begun to burst forth. Most hours of the day, you all occupy the expansive patio and gardens in an attempt to air yourselves out after a long winter. You’ve taken to bringing your work outside, settling in an old lounge chair and luxuriating in the sun as you try to maintain your journalism career from the Manor’s bubble. Yancy’s taken to running laps around the grounds and doing pull-ups on some of the sturdier trees that edge the Host’s garden, much to the future-sighted ego’s chagrin. You’ve borne witness to the younger ego’s hang-dog expression and sheepish apologies in response to the Host’s nearing on crotchety tongue-lashings. You’ve also seen just how quickly Yancy’s appropriately remorseful expression turns into a cheeky grin when the Host returns to his work.

Even Dark has started venturing out, joining you by the pool to watch their antics and place bets on how long until the Host just starts spraying the ex-con with the hose. It’s strange to see him in full sun, still colorless, his aura more evident yet less all-consuming than it is in the shade. It’s as if someone colored over him with a black and white filter but neglected to stay in the lines. You can see through the shadows that typically conceal the finer points of his facial features rather easily, now. It’s harder for him to hide a quirk of his lips at the Host invoking him as a final threat, at Yancy’s sudden paling at the thought of having to answer to the shadowy ego.

The changing weather has been a treat for all of you, especially with Google moving his cooking forays outdoors. Grilled chicken thighs in sweet, smoky sauces, veggie skewers and potatoes roasted to perfect - you didn’t think his cooking could get much better than it already was, and yet the android proves you wrong with each successive meal. When he summons you up from your respective bits of the estate, you all huddle around one of the old, stone outdoor tables, cradling your plates close and smelling like grass and sun. The moon and some candles light your comfortable chatting as you eat your fill, pleasantly tired from days well-spent.

Yet no one seems to spend your newly warm daylight hours more fully than Wilford. If he isn’t joining Yancy for long runs through the Manor’s extensive, wooded back forty, he’s practicing his golf swing out on the course, or most… notably, you’ll say, swimming lengths of the pool you often set up your ‘office’ near. Which is not to say you sit there because Wilford tends to swim more than he does any other activity, or because it means you get to see how his deeply tanned muscles pull him along through the water, slicing through it with ease--

Seriously. That’s not it. You’re not so base or lonely.

At least, not yet. Give it a few more months of living in the secluded bubble-off-of-reality version of the Manor that Dark maintains and maybe you’ll change your tune, but you still have some sense. You like the shady, old-growth trees by the poolside, how you can see out over the patio and the gardens below...

…and because, for all his bluster and occasionally inopportune joking, you just like the boisterous man’s company. Between sets of laps, Wilford will climb out and somewhat towel off, hooting about how absolutely fine the water is and how much good some solid exercise does a body before flopping out on the sun chair near you to catch his breath. And despite his obvious exertions, he’ll still manage to ask you about work, claiming to always have the energy to talk about interview techniques with a fellow hard-hitting reporter such as yourself. All the while you talk, he’ll oscillate between watching you with focused interest and practically blinding you with his broad, toothy smile, eager to hear your experiences and share his own (though they always skew a little… deadly for your taste. You’re still not sure what’s real and what was a skit for Mark - and neither can Wilford, most times.)

Still. It’s those smiles that really draw you in. You barely even register the burning sun above when he so casually throws one your way. It kind of stunned you the first time you found yourself lost in one of his pure sunshine grins because, well, Wilford is constantly smiling. He’s the first to crack a joke or poke fun, as if trying to personally lighten up the Manor one quip at a time. Him smiling isn’t necessarily a special or rare thing, not like how Dark’s cheeks vaguely apple while he watches the rest of you not-so-soberly dance at the end of a long night, or how Yancy bashfully turns his head to hide a prideful little grin when you honestly compliment his singing.

And yet, something about these smiles of Wilford’s, the ones given by the pool as the season turns, are different. They aren’t so manic - he’s not building to a punchline, hunting for an associated peal of laughter. The ones you get caught up in are content in their exertion, loose and easy and full of a deeper warmth.

If you’re lucky, he’ll push himself in his laps and by the time dinner rolls around, he hasn’t fully recuperated. Without having to squint against the sun, which seems to be at war with the man over which of them can radiate the most light, you get to see that smile even better. It catches you every time, stilling the breath in your chest in this funny way that makes you forcibly remind yourself how to exhale.

Those smiles reflect a broader change in his behavior, too - Wilford’s more grounded these days. Dark himself has even gone so far as to comment on how it’s good to have the mustachioed man around more, quietly stunning you all with his openness. Wilford had acted like he wasn’t sure what the man meant before bouncing off on another topic of conversation, but your de facto leader had spoken for all of you. The man has a loose connection with time and space on his best days, often disappearing to who-knows-where for long stretches and leaving you all with a simmering level of concern. Dark keeps tabs on him, sure, but it feels strange to actively ask after Wilford when he’s gone - he’s a grown man after all, and if Dark isn’t worried, then surely things are all right.

Yet it’s difficult for the Manor to fully breathe easily until he comes traipsing through the kitchen like he’d only been just around the corner.

Which he might have been, for all you know about his powers.

All that to say, while you’re all glad to know where the man is at any given moment, you in particular are savoring the time with him. Wilford had been the first to greet you when you got unceremoniously mixed up in their business with Mark, had treated you like an old friend practically from the jump and seemed to work hard to make sure you were comfortable at the Manor - as much as you could be. He was joyful and bright and lighthearted when little else about the situation was.

And for all your level-headedness, you’d fallen ass over teakettle for the ridiculous creature.

Worse, you knew exactly when it had happened. Until that moment, Wilford had been a bright spot for you, a break from the do-or-die seriousness that’s endemic to the majority of the egos. But then, as you two were stepping out into one of the first days of full sun, he’d taken you so gently by the arm, his other hand hovering near your back as he warned you about the unevenness of the patio’s stone slabs. It was so simple as to be forgettable - a passing moment of consideration. His touch wasn’t even incredibly romantic. It had been feather-light, more an extension of his warning than a real guide. Not to mention that Wilford has touched you more intimately countless times before, physically affectionate thing that he is. But something turned in your mind, then. As he half-guided you around the looser stones, you knew you were struck, now forever unable to see his smile, feel his touch, hear the way he calls your name like it’s the sweetest surprise to see you every time without your heart doing fluttery, totally cliché flips.

By all accounts, it doesn’t make sense. Wilford is nothing like your type based on your dating history. He’s not particularly bookish or thoughtful, all brash and mouthy and a little crude - plus a little trigger-happy when it comes to dealing with problems.

Okay, no point in softening it: he is incredibly trigger happy when it comes to dealing with problems.

And yet, despite the utter wildness of his existence and inconsistency in both memory and physical presence, you know you love him. It’s horrendously certain, concrete and immovable in your mind. You should know, you’ve tried to talk yourself out of it. But each time you think you’ve got that thought firmly settled - he’s just a good friend, he’s funny and kind but not for me, see attached reference list for associated figures and evidence - here Wilford comes, calling you by one of his slew of sickeningly sweet pet names with all the sincerity in the world and sending you falling once again into lovesick wonderings and tender thoughts.

It’s getting really difficult to manage.

You’ve been muddling along all right, thankful for the extra practice you’d been putting into shielding your mind. Dark has complained enough about the volume of your thoughts that you’d been putting in the extra time, and while Wilford isn’t quite as consistently psychic or as focused with it as Dark, he’s heard your more intensely-felt thoughts enough to make you nervous about letting them fly willy-nilly. Besides, the last thing you need is for Dark of all people to know about your little crush. That’s probably what he’d call it, too - although you two have come a long way from your initial meeting, you’ve been on the short end of his biting words enough times to anticipate how he’d react to you indulging in such a flight of fancy, particularly with the looming threat of Mark on your doorstep.

But it was getting harder and harder to keep quiet, especially with Wil seeming to be swimming more often these days.

It’s worn you down something fierce, and today had been particularly taxing. Wilford had joined you by the pool almost immediately after you’d gotten set up that morning and just hadn’t left, not even to nap. He’d snuck in a few winks under a large umbrella there by the pool while you worked away transcribing your latest interview with the governor. Typically, you’re able to be normal with him, only ever having to employ your mental blockade ad hoc, but something about today had just been... different. He had looked so peaceful in the shade, been particularly charming asking after your family back home - you’d had to hold back so much more than usual, and on a particularly busy work day. You’re beat.

So you’re taking a moment to yourself after another delicious dinner full of lazy smiles and warm brown eyes, trying not to fantasize too much as you lean on the stone balcony to look out over the Host’s garden. The chill of the evening settles in, but you don’t shiver. It soothes the deep warmth that has settled into your bones, the tired, mask-like feeling of your face, heated to rest in one position by the sun. What about that would you want to shake off?

The murmurs of life from the Manor filter in as you let the day roll off you. Google is in the kitchen with the windows open, the night air cooling things down as he cleans up after your shared dinner. The pleasant clanking of pots in the sink punctuates the rollicking music Yancy’s put on in the den - he and Wilford are caught up in a game of one-up-manship, both trying to convince the other about the best way to make a martini. Usually, you’d be in the thick of it, watching the two boisterous men debating each other in a sort of playful ribbing that edges on real conflict without ever going so far, but tonight… It feels like a little more than you can handle. Particularly after the onslaught at dinner - Wilford sat next to you, his knee bumping against yours as he animatedly recalled a wild night with an old friend, but all you remembered about the story was how his eyes sparkled as he told it, how his magenta-tinged push-broom of a mustache practically danced above his ever-curled-in-a-smile mouth that-

O-kay, that’s enough. You drop your head to hang between your arms. He had really gotten to you today. That, or you’re just worn plum out. With a soft sigh, you roll your shoulders and neck and try to keep it together long enough to see the evening out. You’ve still got after-dinner drinks to get through, and while you could make your excuses and retire early, it would be surprising enough to prompt a slew of questions, particularly from Wilford.

You turn your thoughts back to the den, where things have grown oddly quiet apart from Yancy’s rockabilly records and the clean sound of ice rattling against glass. Then, suddenly, the debate rockets back to life - apparently a short intermission had been taken to allow the Host to provide his unbiased opinion as informal referee, but he had inadvertently set them off on a new topic of discussion on the finer points of vermouth proportions. Poor thing - you knew all too well how Wilford and Yancy could be when they really got going.

Seeing as your drink order is going to take a while, you turn back to the garden and decide on a quiet evening wander among the blooms. Descending the patio’s wide stone steps, you turn your feet toward the hedge maze. The Host has been setting out more summer-time, night blooming plants as the weather has become less unpredictable, but you haven’t had the chance to get a good look at them in the moonlight. Protected by the shade it provides during the day, the moonplants and jimsonweed have taken to the maze and ring it in their delicate white blooms. You’ve been eager to see them in all their glory.

As you venture into the garden and the voices of the Manor’s other residents fade, you remember just how quiet things can get in this little bubble you all call home. Where you’d expect the sounds of summer to begin to filter in - the high drag of cricket song or the chirping of frogs, all calling for mates and laying claim to their bit of the world - there is only silence. Except, of course, the delicate rustle of foliage in the evening wind and the hard crunch of gravel under your feet. Low lights illuminate the garden’s gravel-paved paths, but the farther you get from the ambient light from the Manor, the more eerie things appear. And yet, you aren’t afraid, not really. You can see very easily how you could be - and remember the feeling well from when you first arrived - but you know too much to be truly frightened by the strangeness of it all. You’ve seen Dark rebuff enough nosy teens daring each other to slip into the Manor proper to know nobody could get in without his express intent.

Apart from Mark, of course.

That thought is enough to make you shiver and turn around to look back at the house, as if hoping for some comfort from its warmly lit windows. Eye-like, they stand as a sharp contrast, almost a polar opposite, to the dark gaze of the actor you’ve only (thankfully) seen a few times in person. Although he and the men he’s somewhat ‘created’ bear a strong resemblance, there’s nothing in his cold gaze and hard, practiced smile that you’ve seen in the ego’s faces. Not even Dark’s, when he’s particularly incensed.

Soft orange light emanates from old lamps, mostly from the Manor’s main floor where you all tend to gather. You can see movement in the den centered around the jukebox, Yancy and the Host crowded in and seeming to bicker over the selection. Then, a flicker off to the side, and you spot Dark’s office light still on in the top left corner of the house, the curtains slightly open. He must have lit the fireplace in his outer sitting area for how the light moves, and though you can’t see him from here with his desk off to one side, it’s altogether a certain enough indication of life, of warmth, to ward off the chill Mark’s memory carries.

“Oh, that ol’ bag of bones isn’t something to worry about now, dear, it’s cocktail hour!”

Now that spooks you. You suppress a jump, turning to see Wilford at your elbow, holding two frosty martini glasses with the most pleased look plastered across his broad, tanned face. His eyes glint so playfully in the low light, but you can see how he’s still tired despite his nap. His smile has that bit of softness to it that melts away your surprise and even somewhat soothes your sun-baked exhaustion, although he’s the cause of it. You’d give anyone else a look and toss out a chiding comment, but you know Wilford’s ‘sudden’ appearances are anything but, in his eyes. So you give him a vague laugh and shake your head, rubbing your bare arms absently as you drag that mental barrier back up. Already, you want to give up for how much effort it takes, but you hold it in place all while keeping up a smile. You really don’t trust yourself right now without it.

“You’re right. And on time - I was wondering if you two would reach a conclusion before lights out,” you tease. Wilford works his mouth, mustache moving in a frustrated little dance as his brows draw down into a bunch over his eyes.

“That philistine really thought a martini is meant to be shaken! The horror, the madness... and in my own home, too! I couldn’t possibly have let that slide, you understand. Although I hope you’ll excuse my, ah, sub-par service this evening,” he says, calming slightly and handing over your drink. You take it before raising it towards him in a little toast.

“Happily, knowing it was for the good of upholding and defending the truth,” you tease. The remnants of his righteous indignation slip from his face to be replaced with another of those damned lazy smiles, robbing you of any proper thought as he clinks his glass against yours. Mechanically, you bring it back and take a sip - dry, silky, and ice cold. Perfect, as always. The crispness clears your head, and you can’t help a small, thankful sigh at its grounding bite. Of course, Wilford doesn’t miss a thing, including that little sigh.

“All right, gumdrop? You’ve been quiet tonight.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” you hum, feigning ignorance and hoping he’ll lose interest. To distract him, and since it feels odd to stand in the middle of the path like you are, you slowly continue on your way to the hedge maze’s bit of the garden. But Wilford easily falls in step with you without once looking away from your face. It’s focused enough to make you falter, so you’re thankful for the shadow of night as you put your back to the Manor.

“Barely even chuckled at my story about Abe - work got you down?”

You shake your head again. “No, no, work’s all right, just…” Another little sigh. “Tired, I guess. Maybe too much time in the sun today, I feel baked through.”

Wilford makes a thoughtful noise, not quite sounding like he believes you. It makes something tighten in your throat, feeling like you’ve lied, but he doesn’t prod further except for a gentle hum of “Maybe…”

When you don’t offer anything more, the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. Or, it would be, except for your low-grade hum of nervousness and fluttery infatuation. Thankfully, the man next to you doesn’t seem to notice as you walk along toward the maze, gravel scattering under your feet. The Manor has grown quiet behind you, except for the barely audible lilt of music. The Host must have taken over as DJ, for how much smoother it sounds.

It just makes your heartbeat sound louder in your ears.

You feel a bit bad, dissembling like this, for all the quiet between you and Wil. It feels unfair to how close you two have become. You tell him everything about work, have spent hours just idly talking with him out by the pool, by the Manor’s bar - you sure there’s not a story about your childhood he doesn’t know, at this point. But you’re uncertain enough already about where you’ve landed tonight that you suck it up and cope with this bit of awkwardness, at least on your end. Wilford seems unfazed, if calmer than normal, just taking in the garden as you wander. Still, you feel like you should say something, so with nothing to do but push on, you clear your throat around that funny tightness.

“I, uh… thought I’d come down and see the night blooms,” you offer. Wilford’s stopped watching you, but cocks his head your way when you speak again. “The Host said they’ve been doing well out by the maze, but I haven’t had the chance to see them yet.”

He nods rather solemnly in response, a dour look on his face. “Ah, yes, he rather pointedly told me they don’t do well in vases - so they must be rather lovely.” You laugh at that, knowing how bitterly the Host has to protect his blooms from Wilford’s plucking fingers. The Manor would be full and the garden bereft, if the mustachioed man had his way.

“Don’t know if we have a vase the right size for them, even if they did.” He’s giving you a sort of a mild, confused look when you hazard a glance. “Have you not seen a moonplant before? They’re big. Almost kinda like a squash blossom size.” The look remains, and you laugh again. “You know! Like… this big.” You gesture with your hands, careful of your drink, to make a shape about the size of a dessert plate. “Big for a flower.”

Wilford hums, squinting through the gloom at you. “No wonder you and Hostie-boy get along so well, all this botanical knowledge knocking around in those heads of yours.” He almost sounds jealous, and the very thought has you tickled and fluttery all over again. You’re not imagining it, right? You have to look away, tuck that thought away, but you still elbow him good-naturedly. At least you’re talking.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that. We get along fine, sure, but it’s not like it’s some secret club. Be happy to teach you all you want to know about flowers and bushes and veggies…” You trail off, lips curled in a teasing smile, laying a little trap. Wilford’s pulling a little face, that telling frown he gets when he very well could do something, but has little to no interest in doing so. Which is most things suggested to him that he hasn’t thought of himself.

“Oh, I don’t really-”

“-Have the head for it?” you interject, teasing tone practically dripping off your words. It’s his go-to excuse, you’ve probably heard it a hundred times or more - and you knew he’d give it now. Wilford glances at you, dark eyes full of surprise and a bit of concern, but then sees your look that so clearly tells him he’s fallen for your play and he bursts into a deep belly laugh.

“You little devil! Am I so predictable?” You almost bend over for laughing at his momentary, terrified expression. It’s rare you can get one over on the man, quick as he is. The euphoria of your little win has you beaming, leaning on his arm in an attempt to comfort him.

“Only about this kind of thing. You’re not a fine details kinda guy, Wil, no offense.”

“None taken, although I’m more worried at sounding like a broken record!”

You shake your head, still grinning. “You need to come up with some better excuses, then, old man,” you prod, leaning away to sip your drink. This feels normal, particularly how Wilford furrows his brow again and puffs up against your extremely mild insult.

“Old! Never in all my days-”

“And they’re a lot-”

Wilford gasps in shock at your second interruption, mouth hanging open as you continue down the path without him, laughing yourself silly. You can tell he’s playing it up by how his lips still turn up at the corners of his stunned expression, how his eyes are soft under heavy brows.

So soft.

“The utter cheek! The gall! First, that silly greased-up thing and his shaken martinis, now you and this, this… ageist… ageism! I simply won’t stand for it!”

“So you want me to get your wheelchair, is that it?”

That does it. He narrows his gaze at you and starts off down the path, closing the distance you’d put between you after shocking him into stopping in place. You can’t help the undignified squeal at his advance, hurrying away while trying not to spill your drink.

“You get back here-”

The path dead-ends into one of the maze’s entrances, but you keep going, blowing past the unfurling blooms that bend gently in the evening breeze and headlong into the twisting puzzle of pathways. You lose Wilford soon after entering, managing to take a few quick turns without him seeing, but quickly get lost in the tangle of the maze. There’s little point in learning the solution, primarily because you don’t spend enough time in the thing to warrant remembering, but also because it wouldn’t matter - Dark enjoys rearranging the paths when he’s thinking. It’s almost perfectly positioned under his window, and so while the Host keeps it tidy, the actual route, or routes, to the center are a mystery. Sometimes, there seems to be no solution at all, the fountain at the center inaccessible no matter how you try to find it.

But you’re not trying to reach the center, not right now. You’re just trying to keep away from Wilford, who, based on the dangerous amount of rustling and grumbling you can hear, has started trying to cheat by reaching through the hedges, parting them to peek around. “Play fair,” you call, casting a glance over your shoulder to check for prying hands. Your voice comes out a breathless laugh as you take another corner. “Nobody likes-”

The rest of your chide is cut off as you run full-tilt into something very solid, and the next thing you know, you’re being caught up in firm arms and swung around with your own momentum. How your drink doesn’t spill across the pathway, you have no idea, but your martini is still happily swirling around in your glass by the time Wilford sets you down. He’s grinning, tickled at himself and at you with your little game, arms still around you and practically crowding you against one of the high, bushy walls. You’ve never noticed how narrow the maze’s paths are.

“You’ve already called me old, don’t wound me further, dear,” he chuckles, so deep and rich and close and…

Kissing him is like a reflex. It doesn’t take any thought - hell, if you had the chance to think, you probably wouldn’t have closed the gap - and it doesn’t feel like a true leap, for all the building up and imagining about this moment you’ve done. Like a hug, or a smile, or breathing, it just sort of happens, and now you’re kissing. He’s bent down enough that you barely have to move, really. His lips are dry but soft, his mustache is ticklish but not overly coarse and god it feels like how you hoped. It’s not earth-shattering, no fireworks go off and there’s no choir of angels, but it feels better than any of that ever could. Like the two of you fit together just so for that moment, perfectly in place and tucked into each other, your free hand on his cheek and his arms so steadily around you.

He doesn’t kiss you back, but you know you’ve startled him with all this, surely, so you pull back enough to break your embrace. Your hand stays on his cheek, stroking his stubble there and staying close enough to share breath. For some reason, that makes you giddier than the kiss, and you can’t stop a smile from curling your mouth. You hazard a look up at Wilford, feeling such relief bloom in your chest as your heart pounds steadily against your sternum.

At first, he just looks stunned. His lips are slightly parted, his eyes watching you blankly, and you can’t help but feel just a little pleased - you’ve never thought of yourself as that good of a kisser. But your pride quickly turns cold when you realize it’s not a dreamy sort of staring Wilford’s doing, but the truly startled kind. He blinks, seeming to come back to himself, and his face pulls not into a smile, but this sort of… awareness. It looks kind of like a smile, but it’s not warm in the same way, sort of comforting but more polite than anything. Like he’s putting distance between you. His soft eyes don’t crinkle in gentle, lazy mirth, but in understanding. And sadness.

Immediately, you wish you had never tried to break the silence. Awkwardness would be better than this. Than knowing this.

“Ah.”

How can one little sound pierce your heart so painfully?

He doesn’t pull away, either. His arms stay around you, holding you loosely, bracketing your body in a way that had felt like perfect alignment only moments ago. You drop your hand from his cheek, your eyes from his. You can’t look at that expression any longer, wanting to pull in and make yourself as small as possible, wishing he’d just let you go. The warmth of him this close is only making the sick twisting of your stomach that much worse. “I knew there was something on your mind.”

And how can he be so glib? You tuck your chin further, feeling a dreadful thickness building in your throat, a prickle in the tip of your nose. The best you can be is embarrassed, the worst, wrecked, and right now it’s feeling like the ground might fall away under you. You’d prefer that, really, to whatever normalcy he’s trying to return to. You start to apologize although you don’t trust your voice not to quiver - you just feel like you should for having forced this on him - but he beats you to it.

“I’m sorry, my dear, I… It isn’t you. I’m afraid I just haven’t got the head for it.”

You look back up then, as if jolted. Confusion, anger, sadness - they all well up and blend in this sick disbelief that forces you to look at him when he dares to say something which you know the meaning of so well. Is he really so uninterested? Had you read him so dead wrong? Is he just trying to cheer you up, pretend this didn’t happen? But Wilford’s looking at you so apologetically, so tenderly, that your feelings just fade to a quiet hurt. You feel sicker than before, somehow.

“What… Wil, don’t-”

“I mean it,” he interjects. “Really, I do. I know, I joked before about repeating myself so, but it’s… Well, it’s true. I don’t have the head for most things. I’m lucky it doesn’t roll off my shoulders.” His smile turns so horribly sad that it cracks open all that hurt inside and you have to bite the inside of your cheek hard to hold it in. Wil’s gaze wanders away, his voice steady and rich with very little of his typical showman-like inflection. “I don’t remember… most things. Not just names and faces, but…” He goes quiet for a moment, his eyes getting this faraway look. And then he looks properly old. Something shifts on his face, and it ages him. Maybe it’s the set of his mouth, the tilt of his brow, but as your eyes flicker over his face, you find he barely looks like himself. As if plucked out of time from somewhere very unlike the here and now.

Then, just as soon as it appeared, it fades, and Wilford blinks himself back. “I. I mean I’m all right, dear, that sounds dreadfully gloomy, but it’s not like I’m not used to it by now. Makes me live in the moment, that’s for sure!” You can tell he’s already trying to comfort you, and somehow that hurts all the more. He doesn’t want you to worry - and for good reason; he really doesn’t seem overly distressed about his condition, for all the melancholy that tints his tone. He knows this beast well, and seems to have come to terms with it. Yet you still want to hold him close, tuck him away out of sight of the world. But your hands stay impotently by your side. Helpless in the face of a cruel twist of fate that happened long before you were even alive.

Wilford continues, his voice so gentle in the leafy darkness of the maze. “You have to have noticed when I’m worse off, little hawkeye. I have my good days - every old dog does, but… That’s not enough. Not for you.”

You startle, then, as one of his large, callused hands comes to rest on your cheek. You were so caught up in that strange flicker of… something across his face that you didn’t notice one of his arms unwinding from your waist. It’s such a soft touch, too, feather-light. His fingers curl just slightly under your jaw and tilt your face, your gaze, to meet his. Leaning into it feels so natural.

Those soft, brown eyes that so often twinkle with ridiculous mirth are full of whatever confused, hurt, raw feeling is swirling in your own chest. You feel it just the same, yet you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that saying this, refusing you, is hurting him just as badly. But you have to try and push back - you’ve already leapt this far, and you’re not one to just give up at first falter. You speak around the lump in your throat, ignoring the way your gaze is swimming.

“I don’t care. I don’t… mind.”

“You should, dear. Oh, you should,” he murmurs, almost chiding you as his eyes roam so delicately over your face. “You shouldn’t thrill when someone you care for like that manages to remember your name. Or that you very well exist.” He shakes his head so resolutely that it sends those treacherous tears building in your eyes spilling over his hand on your cheek. Even so, the other comes up to hold your face totally in his grasp, and you can see his eyes glint wetly in the dark. Your hands come up, finding his, tangling around his wrists. You’re not sure if it’s to pull him away or keep him there, to ground yourself, comfort him, or just to mercifully end this, but you feel like you have to touch him. Wherever your drinks have gotten to is a mystery not worth solving right now.

“You always come back. You remember eventually…” It’s desperate; even you dislike how needy you sound. Maybe you were worse off than you had thought. Wilford hesitates, then sighs so miserably. His breath shakes as he does, his voice thick as he speaks again, and your heart twists, guilty.

“But you deserve much more than just ‘eventually,’ don’t you see? And I can’t… promise you what you deserve. I can’t promise I’ll have it when you need it, and, goodness, how could I dare try and poorly fill that role when I’m certain that you, a precious, wonderful thing like you, will find in a heartbeat someone who can make you so much happier?”

You want to keep protesting, to say how you don’t care about some hypothetical future when he holds you like this, looks at you like this, but you know it won’t change his position. Even if he cares for you the same - which it’s clear he does, at least in some way - it wouldn’t change what he’s capable of. Against that immovable barrier, under his delicate touch, you crumble.

He tuts so softly when you breathe in an audibly shaky breath. “There, now, that’s all right… It’s all right, dear heart, I know.” You shut your eyes against that fragile look, against all the tenderness he gives you like it’s nothing at all. “Poor thing, poor thing…” he murmurs, drawing you in against his chest then. It’s all you can do to hold on as tightly as you can and try not to properly sob while a broad hand cradles your head, the other firmly rubbing your back. You stay there a while, sniffling very quietly in the dark while he attempts to soothe you, even as his own touch trembles slightly against your body. Only Wilford would comfort you through you crying over him rejecting you, through his own mourning of what can’t be.

Big, stupid teddy bear of a man.

And then he chuckles, chest rising and falling and almost jostling you out of your little mutual pity party. I’m almost flattered, comes that echo of his voice in your mind. You shake your head a little, but find yourself smiling against his chest.

“For… for all the work I do to keep my thoughts all hushed up for Dark, when are you two going to do the same for me?” Your voice is thick, but Wilford’s laugh is thicker, richer. It echoes solidly right in your ear, pressed close like you are. You’d think it would hurt worse, to be tucked in against him knowing how unlikely it is he’ll hold you like this again, but it helps, somehow. He doesn’t dislike you, isn’t running as fast as he can in the opposite direction at your confession. No, he’s still here, squeezing you gently. That’s enough of a comfort to help you pull yourself back together and eventually lean away from his chest. Wilford lets you go, but a hand comes up to wipe your cheeks, fix your hair so it’s out of your eyes. Your smile is soft, tired.

“Well, when you don’t use them to halfway insult me, perhaps I’ll consider it,” he teases, still a little miserable but regaining some of that warmth, that bouncy humor you know so well. His gentle touch turns to a playful pinch of your cheek, and you wince, batting at his hand and giving him a look. “Oh, so sour already! But I think I know what to do about that...”

And then he’s handing you your drink, pulled from somewhere likely only he can reach. It’s still cold as you take it, still silky against the sides of the novelty glass. For all the bitter, knotted sadness you feel, you still smile at the token. You may not be able to love him how you’d hoped, but he’s still here. He still looks at you with soft eyes over the rim of your glass.

“To you, my dear.”

And although it’s colored now with a quiet knowledge you’re grateful will stay within the high walls of the hedge maze, he still gives you that lazy, warm smile.

#markiplier fanfiction #markiplier egos #ego fanfiction #wilford warfstache #wilford warfstache x reader #mad market pliers ramblings

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mariaiscrafting · 3 years ago

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I don’t know if it’s just because mcyt is the only really modern (aka late 2019-onwards) fandom I’ve been in so far, but I thought the trend of discourse within the fandom about chilling tf out and just letting people live was kinda a mcyt-exclusive thing. That’s not to say that there aren’t still weirdos who get too invested in speculation within mcyt, but generally, if a CC is like “please don’t speculate about this,” the general fanbase (besides those weirdo pockets) seems to stop and maybe mention it in passing, but generally they start telling off people who post long-ass reddit posts, tumblr posts, or twitter threads that continue speculating and basically breaking their CCs’ boundaries. From what I’ve seen, this has happened with things like Tubbo’s random gay flag in his twitter bio, Techno initially taking a break without anyone knowing why exactly, Dream saying he’s unsure about his sexuality, etc. Maybe my perception of the mcyt fandom is just skewed, and all these things are generally speculated about regardless, I don’t know. But to me, it seems like some people kinda say random things ocassionally (i.e., some Tumblr users wondering if Techno stopped uploading because of anxiety over something in his life), but it’s not as much A Thing as it was in early CC-based fandoms. If this was 2015, no one would give a shit about the CC’s qualms. They’d just fucking go off- there’d be 100s of votes on Twitter polls speculating; there’d be full-on, evidence-filled threads trying to Sherlock Holmes it together; there’d be Tumblr discourse so long, you’d have to use XKit’s auto-scroll extension just to reach the bottom of a post; subcommunities or subspaces in fandoms meant solely for shipping, truthing, etc., wouldn’t even exist because that’s just the entire fandom. I’m just so grateful for this shift in fandom norms around respecting CCs and any boundaries they don’t explicitly state.

All this to say, I keep seeing people in OTV video comments and Twitch chats tell off people who want to deep dive into whether or not Toast & Miyoung are dating, and I love to see it so much. Some part of me, like in many fans, wants to have it confirmed. But really, it makes me very glad and surprised to see other CC-based fandoms nowadays do what I’ve seen so much in mcyt fandoms- just stfu and letting CCs live, when it comes to things that would be disrespectful to speculate about. We had normalized shipping so fucking much in fandom culture, even with real, existing people, and now to see it reversed to the point that it’s not generally accepted to ship people unless they’ve said that you can (i.e., why dnf is so insanely popular), is really nice imo.

#mcyt #offline tv #otv #.txt

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tuanhood · 5 years ago

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the property manager

pairing: landlord’s son!mark tuan x reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff, kinda everything, strangers(?) to lovers

warnings: 18+, language, power imbalance (kinda yes?), oral sex (male receiving), face f*cking, thigh riding, dirty talk, unprotected sex.

word count: 7,400+

summary: when you get a letter from your landlord about a rent increase, you decide your only option is to try to talk to his property manager and son, Mark.

a/n: um i have nothing to say. actually yes i do. this is kinda of ALL over the place so i’m sorry about that and if it doesn’t make much seNSE but i just had a craving to wrITE THIS! leave me alone. thx bye.

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It had been a stressful day at work. You wanted nothing more than to go upstairs to your apartment and climb into bed.

You had been all over the city looking for a specific kind of cake that your boss had consumed almost a year ago and couldn’t remember where it had been. More often than not, you found yourself doing ridiculous chores as a personal assistant and after the first year you had told yourself it would get better, but it hadn’t. You thought you could prove yourself and get more recognition, possibly working your way to a bigger role at the entertainment company you worked for, but as time passed it seemed more like a dead-end.

Which is why you were considering quitting and looking for something else. You had connections through friends and old contacts, but you weren’t sure if it was worth it to see if they would ultimately pan out or not.

Checking your mail, you flipped through the letters finding mostly bills, until your eyes settled on a letter addressed to you from your landlord and his son, the property manager.

NOTICE OF RENT INCREASE

Dear Tenant,

Due to general cost increases, we are required to increase your rent. This letter is to advise you formally that your rent is being increased to $1,250 per month as of next month.

This increase does not affect any of our mutual obligations under your lease. For example, your rent due date will remain the first of the month or before.

Thank you for your understanding of the cost pressures on us as we do those upon yourself. We appreciate your tenancy and hope you will remain for a long time.

Best regards,

Raymond Tuan | Landlord

Mark Tuan | Property Manager

You read the letter three times. How could they increase your monthly rent by almost three hundred dollars? You had just enough each month to pay for your already overpriced apartment. But perhaps what annoyed you the most was the short notice and their attitude in the letter. They thank you for your understanding and appreciate you, and yet gave you barely any notice for a $250 increase in rent.

It took you a moment to collect yourself, especially after such an exhausting day, but somehow you found yourself marching upstairs to the second floor and angrily knocking on the door of Mark, the landlord’s son and property manager.

There’s no response at first, and you swear you hear noises coming from the apartment, but soon all that’s heard is silence. All of a sudden you hear a “Just one sec!” being yelled through the door along with shuffling.

Before today you hadn’t really paid much attention to Mark. Being the property manager, you of course had met him when you first moved into your apartment over a year ago and often saw him in the building. You would exchange pleasantries when you passed him in the hallway or ran into him when he was getting his mail. But you had never really known much about him besides the fact that his father was the owner of the building and he was there to make sure things ran smoothly in case tenants needed anything.

There was supposedly one interaction you had with him that you found yourself barely remembering. It had been a late night after drinking and your friends had decided to dump you in the hallway of your building, leaving you to fend for yourself and make your own way upstairs to your apartment. The memories you had were hazy, but you could picture yourself sitting on the floor inside of the building’s entry way, drunkenly sobbing about how you were never going to make it home.

The only reason you thought you had interacted with Mark was because the next thing you knew you woke up in bed with a note resting on your bedside table.

Y/N,

Remember to take an ibuprofen or two when you wake up, along with A LOT – and I repeat – A LOT of water. Thanks again for the… uh compliments and I hope you feel better.

- Mark

That was months ago and you had no clue what “compliments” you’d said to him or he fact that Mark was even the one who helped you up to your apartment and into bed. After that you were very adamant about avoiding conversation with him.

When the door finally swung open you were met with Mark’s sweaty face, some of his hair sticking to his forehead and his breath a little shallow. You wondered if he had been working out based on his appearance. Craning your head, you attempted to look past him into his apartment to locate any evidence that could confirm or deny this suspicion, but he followed your motions, blocking the view inside.

“Um what’s up?” He asked.

“It’s about this letter,” you began, but Mark soon stuck his finger out and began shaking it as if remembering something. “Apartment 8A right?”

You nodded simply, “yeah… that’s me. Anyways-”

“You have that cute doormat out front with the kittens on it,” he stated more as a fact rather than a question. You found yourself nodding again and his interruptions led you to believe that he may never let you speak.

“Listen Mark… I got the letter from you and your dad-”

“The landlord,” he corrected and you felt your teeth clench at another intrusion of your sentence. He waved his hand as if to say “go on,” which inherently caused you to crack your knuckles in frustration.

“I got the letter from you and the landlord,” you repeated, this time correcting yourself which Mark smiled at, “and I don’t see how you can increase rent starting next month.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and crossed his arms, leaning against his open doorway, “what do you mean you can’t see it? We wrote it in the letter.”

You looked at him blankly, and couldn’t understand if he was teasing you or if he was actually dumb. Judging by the way he had a slight frown on his face, head tilted to the side and lines forming between his eyebrows, you had your answer.

“No yes, I see that. I just don’t understand how you would even decide to increase the rent $300.”

“We didn’t. It’s only a $250 increase.”

Only?

That made you angry.

“Do you understand that to some people that’s a lot of money? It’s not easy for everyone to just find an extra $250 a month. I already overpay for my shoebox; I don’t see how I’m going to be able to give you an extra $250 this month at such a short notice or really… every month for that matter.”

Mark clicked his tongue as if thinking of some sort of solution for you until he simply shrugged, “then find a new place to live I guess?”

The tone of his voice didn’t come off as rude or with an attitude. More or less, he said it as if he was just thinking of an “easy” solution to your problem. It almost seemed like Mark had no perception of actual issues that people are often plagued with.

“Mark how the fuck am I supposed to find a new place to live by the end of the month?” He doesn’t flinch at your tone or language, but simply countered back, “okay then… so stay.”

You groaned in frustration. You couldn’t imagine how the other people in your building dealt with broken appliances or faulty plumbing if this was who they had to come talk to.

“Can’t you talk to him about it? Or at least give more of a notice?” You found yourself willing to even be okay with just an extension of the increase. Maybe you’d finally get a promotion or recognition at work, or maybe you could look into getting another job as an assistant.

“Sorry… My hands are tied,” Mark murmured, uncrossing his folded arms as if he thought the visual of seeing his hands would make the statement more believable.

“He’s your dad! He owns the whole goddamn building. What do you mean your hands are tied?” You jabbed.

His face shifted, and it almost seemed like he felt sorry for you, “that stuff isn’t really up to me… It’s up to him.”

You found yourself tapping your foot in irritation and as you found perhaps a new way to reason with him, “I mean you don’t really want to pay that much more a month, do you?” Mark just looks at you confused, once again, “I live here for free… I’m the property manager.”

“Okay yeah or do you live here for free because he’s your dad?”

He shook his head in protest, “No I definitely live here for free because I’m the property manager.”

“Listen let’s just talk about this more. Can I come in? I’m sure I can convince you that it doesn’t make sense to raise the-” Just as you were about to push yourself past him, he positioned himself forward to stop you.

“Is there some kind of problem?” You asked.

“I- You can’t come in,” he frowned.

“I just want to talk!” You explained, throwing your hands up in desperation. What was this guy not understanding? Wasn’t he supposed to be here to answer to the tenants needs and make sure things were running smoothly? Even if it meant you having a nice sit down in his apartment to chat about how you were going to murder him if he kept acting so clueless about the rent raise?

“We can talk out here.”

“Well I have a lot to say.”

“Oh, I know that,” Mark pressed, rolling his eyes a bit. He thinks back to when he found you drunk in the hallway crying. He panicked because he thought you had been hurt or something bad had happened, but you were just completely wasted. As he had hoisted you up off the ground and into his arms, carrying you – not completely willing – to your apartment, you had begun to talk his ear off.

Most of what you had blabbed on about was how miserable you were at your job and how much you just wanted to quit, but soon as he reached the second flight of stairs, he heard you change subjects. Instead, the topic of conversation became about him and his dating life.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You had asked. Mark remained silent, using that as his answer, “because I never see you with one. Which is crazy since you have such a well-defined jawline.”

“Um thank you?” Was the only response he had found to be acceptable.

You continued, “If you were my boyfriend – but you’re not don’t worry – I would tell you how good your jaw was all the time. Aren’t I nice? Wouldn’t I make a nice girlfriend? I think so, but some people don’t think so…” You drifted off; the sadness evident in your voice.

Mark had found the conversation you were having – pretty much with yourself – funny and by the time you reached the front door of your place, he realized he didn’t want it to stop. You had begun to search your bag for your keys, which you would stop doing ever so often to begin talking about something else, getting distracted and ultimately forgetting about the task at hand.

By the time you had both made it inside, it felt like hours had passed and you wandered to the kitchen, Mark following behind closely, wanting to make sure you were okay. “Do you want something to eat? It’s around that time, huh? Like for a late-night snack?”

He shook his head at you, “Y/N, I think you should head to bed,” Mark was concerned to say the least for your body as you had told him somewhere between the first flight of stairs and the second that you had work in the morning. You had ignored him, “what kind of animal do you think you are in a relationship? For me I think I’m… a cat. No, no actually I’m more like a kitten, because I can be playful and energetic, but I still have that “leave me alone” energy, ya know? I bet you’re something cute like a puppy or I don’t know gopher?”

He hadn’t even argued with you about what being a gopher in a relationship meant or how it was a cute thing to be. Somehow, he had convinced you amidst your next rant that heading to bed was indeed a good idea. As soon as your body had hit the mattress, you were fast asleep and he managed to find a piece of paper to leave you a note for the next morning.

After that, Mark thought maybe the two of you would become friends. Which looking back at, Mark suddenly thought it was a lame thing to think. He didn’t have many friends or people he truly knew in the building as most tenants just saw him as an extension of the landlord – his father – and didn’t really treat him like an individual. More like a spoiled brat.

However, as months went by and you avoided his gaze in the hallway, he could tell that your drunk escapade had been forgotten altogether. Now looking at you frustrated, a raise in rent being the only reason for you to come and talk to him, he felt sick to his stomach, because he thought you were different somehow.

“It’ll only take a second I swear,” you muttered, and somewhere lost in his thoughts, Mark didn’t have a moment to react at your swiftness to push pass him into his apartment. “Wait stop, don’t!” He protested, turning around quickly to see you looking around his place.

You took it in and you were surprised. For some reason you had pictured it to be much bigger since he was the landlord’s son, but it was probably only a few square feet bigger than your own apartment. The next thing that left you bewildered was how clean and organized it was. Every apartment that you had been that belonged to a male, often looked ransacked as if a thief had been through. However, when you turned your head towards his living space, a simple couch and coffee table positioned in front of a TV, that was when you felt your eyes widen the most.

Up on the screen of the TV was a paused video of a woman on her kneeling in front of a man, mid blowjob. Okay so he wasn’t working out when I knocked on the door, you conclude. Seeing the image on the screen and Mark’s bright red, panicked face looking for the remote on the couch, surprisingly doesn’t make you feel disgusted or awkward. It makes you feel… intrigued?

“I- uh, fuck- I- I’m sorry. I don’t- I don’t know what to say,” Mark stuttered after he finally finds the remote and switched off the television.

“I’m guessing that’s why you didn’t want me to come in?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, clearly nervous, “yeah…”

You suddenly felt bad for barging into Mark’s place uninvited when he had clearly been in the middle of a personal moment, so you figured it would be best to make the situation as uncomfortable as possible. You wanted to show him that you didn’t care about what he had been doing before you knocked on the door, and there was no reason to feel weird about it. It was natural after all. So somehow you found yourself flopping down on the armchair perpendicular to the couch, making yourself comfortable, attempting to “lighten the mood.”

“Sorry,” you apologized, “but don’t worry, I don’t care. What you do on your own time is your own personal business, not mine.” Mark brought one of his hands to the back of his neck and massaged it as if the new found situation causes him enormous amounts of stress. Which he certainly believed it did.

You didn’t want to come across as rude or nosey, but for some reason that original impression of being intrigued finds its way back into your mind, “aren’t you supposed to be available 24/7? Shouldn’t you be prepared for something like this? I don’t know shouldn’t you always be expecting someone to knock on your door?”

For the first time since entering the apartment, Mark gave you attitude, “It’s not like I’m expecting them to barge their way into my place.”

“Still you should at least turn off your TV! Or I don’t know watch it on your laptop or phone? I honestly don’t know anyone who watches porn on their TV anymore,” your back and forth diffuses the situation somehow as Mark finally moved closer to where you’re sitting and he leaned against the side of the couch.

“Well why else would I use the TV?”

“I don’t know to watch literally anything else?” You yelled out to him. He moved around the couch to sit down, “that was a joke,” he explained.

You laughed and he joins you, grateful that this isn’t as terrible as he expected it to be. It’s when the laughing finally subsides that you feel your eyes drift down to the crotch of the grey sweats he’s wearing. You know it should be the last thing you’re thinking about in this moment, but as he shifts his weight on the couch to get comfortable, you swear you can just make out the outline of his cock. It causes you to squirm in your seat and you instinctively pressed your legs together not wanting to think about it.

After a moment, “Um… back to the rent… Like I said there’s really nothing I can do Y/N.”

As he brings the discussion back to the original topic at hand, he runs his hands through his hair once again, and it’s then you take notice of the veins that are clearly on display on his forearm. The sight of them makes you press your legs together even more, your mind soon drifting to how breathless Mark was when he first opened the door. You wonder how close he had been before you had interrupted him, how his hair had probably stuck to his forehead and how hard his hand must have been working to pump himself at the sight of the porn actress blowing the guy she was in the scene with.

What was Mark into? What kind of porn was it? How did the woman in the scene find herself in that position? So willing and compliant? Had she needed something from him? Like you needed something from Mark?

You feel yourself grow wet at the thought of what situation you and Mark would be in if this was porn. He would be your only option to getting what you want and being able to stay, so you’d put him in your mouth and let him fuck your face to convince him.

“Hello? Are you there?” Mark asked suddenly, waving his hand in front of your face from the couch.

Getting lost in your erotic haze, you feel as though you should think twice for what you’re about to do, but you feel so turned on by the idea and sitting here knowing what Mark had been doing right before you entered couldn’t make you stop yourself.

Mark watched you get off the chair you had been sitting on and slipping yourself in between the couch and coffee table. He looks at you with his head tilted to the sight and eyebrows furrowed, unsure of what you were doing. As you sink down to your knees in front of him, he feels his cock twitch in his sweats. He thinks he surely must be mistaken.

“W-What are you doing?” He asked, his breath hitched.

You looked at him innocently, placing your hands on his thighs, “what does it look like I’m doing? Let me convince you that you shouldn’t raise the rent.”

He feels like his heart has stopped beating and that maybe this is all a dream, an erotic fantasy and his mind is just drifting off. That he’s actually still fixated in front of the video he was watching earlier with his hand rubbing up and down his length.

Mark had to be honest with himself, he had never been a situation like this before and his mind was running a thousand miles a minute trying to figure out what the right way of going about this was. Not that there is a right way, he thought to himself.

He knows that he shouldn’t even be in this situation and that it’s his own damn fault for somehow not stopping you from entering his apartment, but he can’t help but look at you so willing for him and wonder what if?

Immediately he shook his head and decided to put a stop to this. He didn’t want this to take advantage of you.

“Y/N, I-I don’t think we should do this. I don’t want you to think that I’m using you or taking advantage of you because of-” you cut him off, sharp as a knife. “If you don’t think we should do this, then why are you hard?”

At your words, Mark finally acknowledges how hard he’s become at the sight of you being so obedient for him and he feels his cheeks grow red, “I-I-” he began to stammer, perplexed by the uncertainty he felt.

He wanted this, oh god how he wanted this, but he didn’t want you to feel like you had to do this.

As if you read his mind, you interrupted his daze, “Mark I’m doing this because I want this, trust me,” you found yourself rolling your eyes at him, “just let me play the role of desperate tenant who’s willing to do anything to stay, okay?”

Mark nodded wordlessly, and realizes all he can do is take your word for what it was and trust you. Allowing himself to do so, he felt freed from his thought filled head and finally be in the moment. The moment where all you wanted was to suck him off.

At this allowance, you drifted your hands up Mark’s thighs to the elastic waistband of his sweatpants to finally expose his hard cock. Your tongue darted out to lick your lips instinctively, feeling a pulse in your core at the sight. He positioned himself closer to the edge of the couch as you moved forward enough on your knees to breathe on the head of his cock, “fuck,” he hummed.

Licking your lips one last time, you parted them to suck lightly at the tip. Your tongue slipped out from your lips to lick around the head, moving in slow strides and glancing up to find Mark staring down at you. At his gaze, you felt yourself involuntarily whimper at how innocent he looked as if he couldn’t believe that this was happening which to a certain degree you couldn’t either.

Never had you imagined in all the times you passed by him in the building that you’d be in this position, your tongue dragging up and down his length slowly. Now, you would let him fuck your face however much and however hard he wants.

You take more than just the head into your mouth, coating his length with saliva and letting your lips glide against the sensitive skin. “So good,” you heard Mark softly murmur and the quiet praise made you want to take even more of him into your mouth.

It doesn’t go unnoticed to Mark at how you move a little faster or take more of his length in every time he words how good you are. He wonders what else you would want to hear. You continued your rhythm, bobbing your head up and down, forgetting about everything else. All that mattered to you was hearing Mark’s moans and his praise he hoarsely whispered. You were pulled out of your trance as Mark gripped a handful of hair to pull you off of him. You whined, but liked his sudden force.

He chuckled and you noticed how different his eyes now looked. Before, his hesitancy to the situation shined through them, but now they were glossy and much darker. It was almost as though Mark had been replaced while you had him in your mouth.

“Just look at you, so fucking eager. So ready to get down on your knees for me to get what you want… so greedy to have as much of me as you can. As much as it takes.”

This new Mark was certainly doing things for you.

“Mark fuck my face,” you practically groaned. For a moment you see a glimpse back to the Mark who had been looking down at you innocently just a little while ago, but soon you’re once again met with this new Mark who was so sure of himself and seemed like he enjoyed being in control.

He smirked, “what did I do to deserve such a good girl?”

Without hesitation, Mark stands up in front of you and shoves himself back into your mouth, slowly wanting you to feel him in every part of your mouth the same way you would feel him later.

“How bad do you want to stay?” He asked, pushing himself in further until all of him was in your mouth, feeling him at the back of your throat “I know you can take it all kitten.”

At the pet name, you moaned around him, not being able to hold it back. Your reaction caused him to begin thrusting himself into your mouth, his hand going to grasp the back of your head, setting a harsh pace and thrusting quickly, he groaned at the sound of you choking on him. As tears began to form in the corner of your eyes, Mark wondered if he should ease up and began to slow down. You noticed this and simply reached your hand up to rub his leg gently as a sign for him to continue.

He soon returned to his original pace and kept his eyes fixated on himself going in and out of your mouth. He felt himself grow closer and closer to release, especially when he thought about how compliant you were being for him, how you had been the one to initiate this and how if your mouth felt this good, your pussy would feel even better.

The thought brings him to cum in your mouth, and he becomes embarrassed at how sudden his climax was. Part of Mark thinks you’ll be mad, but part of him also thinks that maybe that’s what you wanted all along.

The latter thought proved to be correct as you took all of his release in your mouth with ease and swallow, showing him your tongue as proof of a job well done.

Mark’s heart skipped a beat.

You smiled at the bewildered look on Mark’s face and used the back of your hand to wipe the saliva and cum that had dripped onto your chin and lips during Mark’s brutal plunge into your mouth.

Mark felt overwhelmed with exhaustion as a result from his orgasm and collapsed onto the couch behind him, spreading his legs and shutting his eyes after pulling his sweats back on. At his actions, you stood up from your space on the floor in front of him and watched him for a moment.

Fuck, he really is beautiful, you found yourself thinking. How peaceful and pristine he looked post-climax made you want to take care of him and just run your fingers through his hair until he was fast asleep.

The sudden want caused you to feel like that maybe it was your cue to leave Mark’s apartment. However, just as you turned to go, you feel Mark grabbing your wrist from his spot on the couch. “Hold on just give me a minute,” he mumbled with his eyes still closed.

You scanned your eyes back and forth around the room, and noticed the “best uncle ever!” drawing sitting against one of the bookshelves in the corner. You took this as your second sign to leave this man’s apartment.

“Fine if you can’t wait one minute while I put myself together, just have at it I guess,” Mark stammered, gesturing to his lap as he felt your attempt to leave once again.

His eyes are still closed, therefore you’re not sure if he’s even aware of his words and movements, “uh… what?” In that moment, Mark shot his eyes open quickly, “My thigh. Ride it,” he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Being honest with yourself, you hadn’t expected this little rendezvous or whatever it was with Mark to include more than him fucking your face. When you had seen the length and size of him through his sweatpants along with what he had been watching before you angrily knocked on his door, all you could think about was getting him in your mouth. You hadn’t considered your own needs for even a second. The sudden realization of this made you think you were going insane.

Mark pats his lap and set you into a blur of removing your pants, hesitantly setting yourself down on his thigh. It’s almost as though he could sense your uncertainty and he positioned you down onto him, grasping your hips to move them back and forth slowly. He does this for a moment and you let out a groan at the friction you feel against your core. “Can I kiss you?” Mark asked you with his head leaning against the back of the couch, hands still grasped on your sides.

Your practically snorted at his request, “asks the guy who’s already had me swallow his cum.” He brings his head up instantly as if shocked and ready to defend himself to you, “I’m sorry okay!? I couldn’t help myself,” he paused and quietly, “you were too good.”

You feel yourself smile at his praise once again and you nodded your head, “of course you can kiss me Mark.”

“Okay I just had to make sure!”

“You know I’m not a prostitute, right?”

“I-I know! That’s not what I meant! I meant-” You cut him off laughing, stopping your movement on him completely to collect yourself, “Mark I’m fucking with you. Don’t worry.”

“That’s not very nice,” Mark huffed.

You placed your hands at the back of his neck and pull him closer to you, “now kiss me you idiot.” You could have sworn you heard him mutter something like “that’s still not very nice,” but as soon as his lips reached yours for the first time of the night all other thoughts left your head. The contact was enough to leave you lightheaded, and with every lick and bite of your lips you felt yourself instinctively begin to move your hips again.

Mark’s kisses trailed from your lips to you jaw to your neck, and his soft sucking, along with the feeling of your clit rubbing against him through your panties caused you to forcefully grip onto Mark’s broad shoulders. The feeling overcoming you from the way grinding on just Mark’s thigh felt and the way he was sucking that spot on your neck, caused you to what nothing more than to reach your high fast and hard. You wanted to completely fall apart from riding this gorgeous man’s thigh and let him know how good it felt.

Mark unattached himself from your skin and simply laid his head and arms back down on the couch as he had done when he was exhausted. He became so transfixed in your grinding on him and all he wanted to do in the moment was enjoy the show.

Arms still on his shoulders, “Mark,” you moaned, suddenly wishing you had even less than just your panties between and his sweats between the two of you.

“Show me how much you want it. Show me how much you want to stay so you can ride my thigh every single day,” at his words, Mark tensed his thigh and your eyes immediately shoot open at the new feeling that overwhelms you further. Mark is already hard again at the sight of you getting yourself off by using him and he realizes that he would be okay with you using him as much as you want, whenever you want.

Mark’s hands wander forward from the couch and begin to trail themselves up and down your body, playing with your breasts through your shirt and palming them softly. It’s when he reaches around to the back of your panties and pulls them tighter against you body that you feel the high you had been chasing begin to hit you. The material riding up, gives your clit the final bit of friction you need to send you spiraling into an orgasm.

You let out a final “Fuck!” as exclamation as your fingernails dig into Mark’s shoulders, your head falling backwards and causing your breath to catch in your throat. Mark’s hands returned to your hips, grinding you down onto him to make you ride out the aftershocks that course through you.

“Fuck,” you heard Mark say as you fell forward into his arms, “that was so fucking hot.”

He rubbed your back soothingly and you smiled into his shoulder at his response to you just having an orgasm from his thigh. “Hotter than the porno you were watching?”

He playfully hits your back, “Way hotter, trust me.”

When you finally regain strength, you lifted yourself off of Mark’s chest and looked down to notice the dark patch on his grey sweats where you had been pressing yourself against him. You looked away from him, face growing hot from embarrassment. Mark tilted your chin towards him, “aw did my kitten leave behind a mess?” he asked you cooing in a soft voice.

Despite reaching orgasm only moments ago, you feel the space between your legs begin to drip with arousal once again and judging on Mark’s demeanor, he can sense it.

He pressed himself further against you until you can feel his hardness against the side of your own thigh, “does she want more?” Once again in a Mark Tuan induced trance, you nod your head mindlessly.

In a haze of motions and movement, Mark pulled you off of his lap to remove his sweats, his cock springing free and looking painfully hard and ready to be inside of you. You lick your lips at the thought and it’s not until Mark pats his lap for you to get back on that you realize he wants you to ride him.

Any other situation you would jump at the opportunity, loving the control, but you whined at him still feeling a bit spent from working yourself against him before, “can we do more of a ‘you put most of the work in’ kind of position?”

He puts his hands up jokingly as if surrendering, “okay, okay, okay.”

You lay down with your back against the couch, removing your shirt and bra as Mark goes to the bathroom to retrieve a condom, but to your dismay he comes back holding an empty box, flipping it upside down to show you the issue.

“Wow are you that busy?” You asked Mark, then suddenly it occurs to you that maybe you should have asked if he as a girlfriend. Mark didn’t really seem to be the kind of guy that would do that to someone.

He shakes his head, “no, it’s just… It’s been a long time okay? And there used to be more than half a box left, but I’m pretty sure all of my friends have secretly been taking them when they’re here, because how else could they disappear if I haven’t had sex with anyone in forever?”

It’s clear that Mark’s worked up by the situation and isn’t sure what to do, so you try your best to calm him down, giggling at his demeanor, “Mark it’s fine. I have an IUD, don’t worry.”

“What?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes at him, what was up with this kid? “An IUD… an Intrauterine d-”

“I know what an IUD is! I just meant… you still want to have sex with me even though I’m dumb and all my friends apparently take my condoms?”

You swear your heart swells at innocent Mark appearing in front of you once again and you laugh again, “well I have to show you how much I want to stay, right?” You wiggled your hips at him from down on the couch and sighed contently, “plus I just really need you inside of me or else I feel like I’m going to explode.”

Mark laughed at you and throws the empty condom box to the side of the couch, which he climbs back on positioning himself in between your legs, “yes ma’am.”

He gently ran his index finger up and down, over your clothed entrance, the feeling causing you to shiver. Mark smirked at your reaction and pushes underneath your underwear until he rubs his finger directly over your slit, letting it collect your wetness. When he removes it, you whimper at the feeling and he places his digit into his mouth to taste you.

He let out a lustful sound at your taste, “my kitten tastes just like candy. I could spend all day with my head in between your legs and I will, but I need to be inside you. Now.” At his emphasis on wanting to sink into you, Mark for some reason decided that it would make more sense to use his hands to rip apart your underwear to grant him entrance rather than simply taking them off of you. You made a mental note to give him shit for it later. $250 and new underwear? No thanks.

Delicately, Mark lifts both of your legs up until they’re situated on each of his shoulders. You feel yourself exposed to him in a new way, his cock brushing against you slit, making you feel the need to beg for him to enter you. At his pause, you tried to slide yourself down towards him impatiently, but he holds in you in place, “I thought you were tired?” Mark smirked right before he enters you slightly. Only part of him is in, but you groaned at the stretch.

“Fuck kitten, are you even going to be able to take me?” Mark wondered out loud.

He continued to push into you, and your body adjusted itself to get used to the way he was stretching you and the way he was filling you so deliciously. You barely ever went without a condom despite your IUD, but with a lack of barrier separating you and Mark and the sensation it brought, you found yourself wanting him to enter you like this as many times as he wanted.

He pushed himself forward until he bottoms out, fully inside of you and groaned. He starts off slow and you whimpered, just wanting to feel him pound into you already. You think you’re going to cry at how you can feel him practically everywhere and in every single part of your body, when he has barely even moved. Mark feels himself go dizzy at how tight you are around him. It’s bordering on painful, the squeeze of your walls around his cock, but he doesn’t really care as he listens to the sounds leaving your mouth asking him to move faster.

Mark’s pace picked up and as he thrusts into you at a faster and faster rate, your lifted legs move with him and your knees practically begin to hit your chest every time he pulls back to delve into you again. With the angle his plummeting into you at, it’s not long before he hits your sweet spot and as you shutting your eyes tightly, unable to focus on anything except how good it feels. It’s when Mark’s hands leave your hips and wander to your breasts, cupping them, swirling your nipples in between his thumb and index finger that you feel yourself clench dangerously hard around Mark. He moaned, feeling like he could cum again at any minute, but he held himself off wanting to make sure he had taken care of you first.

“Are you sure you don’t just want me?” Mark asked in his gruff, low voice, his probing into you giving no sign of stopping, “Are you sure you just didn’t want to feel me inside you this whole time? You don’t care about staying or going, you just wanted to feel yourself wrapped around me. Be honest.” At his words you let out more lustful sounds, unable to form any real response due to how fucked out you felt. Mark, however, wouldn’t take your silence at an answer as he thrusts in even harder, “Be. Honest.”

It’s then when he pushes you over the edge, and you feel your second orgasm of the night course through you. “Mark… F-fuck Mark, oh god I- fuck,” you pant at the same time your walls squeezed around Mark one final time, your lower body arching off of the couch. For Mark, that’s all it takes for him to reach the peak of his own orgasm, the sight of you falling apart in front of him. You feel him release himself inside of you, feeling him make you so full with his warm cum coating your walls.

As you caught your breath from your own climax, you watch Mark come down from his, making note of the final noise he lets out before he almost collapses himself on top of you. He pulls himself out of you and lowers your legs from his shoulder, a soreness that wasn’t present during the fucking starting to make itself known in your body.

You feel more exhausted than you had after your first orgasm and you don’t even realize you closed your eyes until you feel Mark nudging your shoulder gently with his hand, “huh?” you mumbled, half-aware.

“I’m going to clean you up, is that okay?” Mark asked tentatively.

For probably the hundredth time of the night you wanted to laugh at the boy. He had already fucked you, but he still felt the need to ask if it was okay to do things like clean you up.

Okay he was cute.

Nodding at him, you feel Mark wiping up the mess he made inside of you that was beginning to seep out. When he’s finished, he lifts your legs and sits down on the couch beside your laying body, dropping your legs over his lap. He caresses them.

There’s a peaceful moment between the two of you and it’s nice, it soothes you and you feel yourself drifting off once again, but Mark interrupts your fall into slumber, “you know I probably could talk to my dad about everything.” At this point you didn’t care about the money anymore, and you hoped Mark truly knew that the rent wasn’t the reason why you fucked him.

Using your legs, you playfully kick Mark, “I really don’t care about that anymore. This was worth way more than $250.”

He chuckled, “Like how much? $500?”

You hummed in thought, “I honestly couldn’t even put a price on it if you held a gun to my head.”

“Dark… but I get it.”

There’s another moment of silence and you take this as your chance to fall asleep, but suddenly you feel yourself being lifted off of the couch and into Mark’s arms, “where are you taking me?”

“My room, so you don’t have to fall asleep on an uncomfortable and overpriced couch.”

Your eyes shoot open, “so you think it’s overpriced too!” He shakes head at you playfully in protest and lays you down on his bed when he enters his room. You can’t help but inhale the scent around you. It smells like him.

He sits down beside you and places a kiss on your forehead, “I’m still going to talk to my dad regardless. It’s kind of ridiculous.” A smile slowly starts to creep up on your face just as you agree with him, “Okay, okay. Fine!”

“Now get some rest.” You felt the weight shift up on the bed, signaling Mark’s departure, but instantly with your eyes still closed, you reached out to grab his wrist, “wake me up in twenty minutes for another round, okay?”

He clicked his tongue at you, “It’s going to cost you.” You opened your eyes and smiled up at him, thumb gently stroking his wrist.

“I’m not worried, you’re priceless after all.”

#got7 fanfic #got7 smut #mark tuan fanfic #mark tuan smut #mark tuan

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waveridercrewmember · 4 years ago

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Legends Among Us 2

My friends, I love you all. Here, take more of this madness. Part 1 here.

Jax was actually the one to suggest getting a group of former legends together to play Among Us. He was introduced to it through his wife’s family, and he swiftly became addicted. Figured it was a good excuse to reconnect with some of his legends family.

So Jax calls Ray and Nora. They are immediately on board and decide to hatch a plan of who to invite to their lobby. (Author’s note: listen, lots of things happened this past crossover. I like to think that some characters are no longer dead and can get the second chance they deserve.)

When playing, Jax prefers being crewmate. He doesn’t like the added stress that comes with having to choose which of his friends to murder. (He always ends up choosing Rip haha.) Although, Jax does get annoyed at how inaccurate the tasks are. Like seriously, where do those wires go to? If they are disconnected, shouldn’t there be consequences you can see? Whenever Jax makes the lobby, he always maxes out discussion time, as talking with everyone and hearing everyone’s stories is his favorite part of the game.

Lily Stein thrives as imposter. She loves using the vents and killing people in electrical. Her favorite sabotage is lights. Lily’s signature move is to marinate someone for a round or two, then kill them with no warning. She practiced an evil laugh to use whenever she kills. As crewmate, she’s really good at getting tasks done and loves listening to all the evidence before voting.

Ray is an okay imposter, but the best crewmate. His favorite thing to do is what he calls ‘trust exercises.’ He will stand on top of vents (as crewmate) and wait for someone to join him. If no one dies after a while, Ray calls that person good, and will hardcore vouch for them at the next meeting. Because of this, Ray plays third imposter a lot. When he is imposter, Ray whispers, “I’m Rayge, I’m Rayge,” to himself.

Due to all her childhood experiences, Nora is an excellent liar. This makes it very hard to catch her as imposter, and she wins 90% of her imposter rounds. Nora somehow always has an alibi. She loves checking vitals, but she doesn’t like doing tasks. Also, she always knows when Ray is imposter because he will purposely avoid her so that he doesn’t have to kill her.

Charlie loves playing imposter, but rarely ever gets it. Because of this, Charlie happens to make lots of deals with other players. Many imposters will kill whoever Charlie tells them to, no questions asked. Charlie loves randomly accusing people with no evidence, and tries to incite as much chaos as possible. Charlie will hop on vents and overall try to act suspicious.

Wally tries to get his tasks done first thing, then likes to hide in obscure places to 1) scare his fellow crewmates and 2) try and catch the imposter in the act of killing. When they get proximity chat, he’s the player smashing his face into walls to try and eavesdrop. When he’s crewmate, he choses who he votes based on vibes alone. He’s not the best imposter, because he always gets too excited and kills the first person he finds alone. Then someone else walks in, reports the body, and says, “So Wally, wanna explain what you were doing there?” Wally tries to lie his way out of it, but it never works.

Kendra was so happy to receive the invitation to the lobby, and has loved getting caught up on all the legends’ adventures. Kendra is always the first person to call meetings. She’s a decent imposter, but she likes being crewmate and going through all her tasks. She’s generally pretty quiet, unless she has hard evidence for who is the imposter. She gives the most convincing arguments about why they should vote off someone, and she’s almost always right.

Rip can’t sabotage to save his life. If there are four people left and he’s the imposter, he will lose without fail. His favorite way to kill is in stacks. He gets mad when other crewmates don’t do their tasks, and will always be one of the first people to vote. He yells whenver he gets killed and talks extensively in ghost chat.

Leonard’s playing style is slow and stealthy. It’s his personal vow to never fix any sabotages and to do three tasks max. Generally, those tasks are med bay or astroids, where doing them gets him an alibi. He’s very good as sussing out the imposter, but wants the game to last longer, so he keeps his suspicions to himself until the very end. He’s always one of the last people standing. As imposter, he likes to only kill one person per round so as to have maximum time watching his friends descend into chaos as they accuse each other.

Lita loves doing revenge kills. She has a mental hit list, and whenever she gets imposter, she goes about knocking off names. It’s people who have voted her off or killed her first in the past. Leonard is never on the list, because Lita knows he will always side with her and vote off who she says (sucker uncle leonard). Lita loves calling Mick and discussing the best Among Us strategies. Her favorite task is swipe card, and she oftentimes joins Ray in hanging out on vents.

The best imposter duo is any mix of Leonard, Lita, and Lily. They all have similar styles and can kill flawlessly. All make excellent use of sabotages. The lobby gives them the nickname The Lethals.

The worst imposter duo is any combination of Wally, Ray, and Jax. They are terrible at getting caught killing, can’t lie to save their lives, and almost always botch double kills. They don’t care if they win or not, however. After all, all they really care about is having fun with their friends.

#legends among us #legends of tomorrow #dc legends of tomorrow #among us #jefferson jackson #Ray Palmer #nora darhk #lily stein #rip hunter #charlie lot #wally west #Kendra Saunders #leonard snart #Mick Rory #lita

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happyhollow-mellowmarsh · 4 years ago

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S.H.R.E.C.

“Hello and welcome to Sharing How Related Elements Contrast, or S.H.R.E.C., for short. My name is Eleanor Eglantine Ambrose II, the author of the… Controversial book Forbidden Temptations: I Can Eat This But You Can Not as well as one of the apprentice of the Grand Witch Treat. Today I’ll be joined by two of my fellow apprentices as we go over the way that different magical elements contrast, interact, and change based on their relationships with one another.”

A short pink haired girl with elven ears stands in what looks to be a kitchen, the type used for a professional cooking show. How she and her companions got the rights to film here is a mystery. Grey eyes flick to the two men accompanying her, and she gestures at them, clearly unaware the camera is going to pick this up. One of the men, the one with white highlights and scars all over him, simply stares back at her, clearly confused as to what the hell he’s supposed to do here.

Elle nudges the scarred man with her elbow, aggressive whispers, “Introduce yourself!” She knows this is getting picked up by the mic, right?

He hisses a bit at the nudge before slowly turning to the camera. He seems a little...shy. “I’m...RJ Mendoza. Another one of Treat’s apprentices. Mm.” Doesn’t seem like the talkative type, either.

The other man, on the other hand, is all smiles and appears to be more than comfortable in front of the camera.

“And my name is Maui Nguyen, also one of Treat’s apprentices. It’s so great to be with you all today!” He says with an enthusiastic wave at the camera. “Especially you Elle, thank you for lettin’ us join you,” he says, gesturing towards Eleanor. “I can’t wait to see what you got in store for us!”

“It is no problem Mr. Nguyen.” No thanks for RJ though. Elle moves off camera briefly to bring two… Interesting smoothies. Given they each have a tide pod floating on the top of them, they are clearly deadly.

“Today,” she continues. “We are going to be testing different ways to negate poison using magic. Poison is my primary specialty, and as a result I have studied a variety of ways to use it and negate its effects. Mr. Mendoza also has magic that can negate poison.”

RJ nods, but there’s a short pause before he realizes that he should probably say something. “My primary element is Salt.” He then pulls out a salt shaker from his pockets. “This is just regular table salt, but I can use it with my magic to make poison stuff edible.”

Maui oos exaggeratedly as if this was his first time hearing their elements, picking up a tide pod from his “smoothie,” showing it off for the camera to see. “Edible you say? Even this?” He says, waving the tide pod in front of them, clearly trying to put on a good show for the audience.

Elle clapped her hands. “Oh yes! With my magic, and Mr. Mendoza’s I suppose, you could definitely consume a Tide Laundry Capsule! I have heard that this was a fascination for youths online for a considerable amount of time. I thought it would help us get wider appeal.” She remembers she’s still on camera, right?

After a brief pause, she turns back to the camera. “Ah, yes. Mr. Nguyen is not immune to poison, and as a result, he will be our test subject for this endeavour. You, of course, consent to this, correct? You need to say it for legal reasons.”

Maui, with a flashy smile, nods his head and gives them all a big thumbs up. “Absolutely! With you two magic masters, what can go wrong?!”

“Excellent! Mr. Mendoza, will you start us off?”

RJ nods and simply sprinkles a generous pinch of salt into one of the smoothies. “Should be good now.”

Maui claps his hands in performative amazement, before taking the cup and sloshing it around. “Still lookin’ pretty thick. Anyone have a guess at what this’ll taste like?” He asks the audience, before giving another cheeky smile. Someone is having fun. “Well, bottoms up!”

Without wincing at all, Maui begins to chug, taking huge heaping gulps, and in no time at all shows off his empty cup to the camera. It was only then did the man shudder slightly. “Eu-eugh, salty…”

“And, he suffers no ill effects- Oh, wait, I meant to show how deadly… Maui, can we edit this to go before the drinking?” Who does Elle think is editing this? Either way, she runs off screen and grabs a potted plant, pouring a bit of the remaining drink in. It immediately starts wilting.

“I customized the poison so it would be far more potent than the average one,” the girl explains, far too cheerful about something that could have killed her test subject if the magic failed. “Now, Mr. Nguyen, to test the second glass, I’ll be siphoning the poison out of you before it causes you any harm. Would you prefer I hold your hand, or do you want more contact. The more contact, the easier it is.”

“Uhhhh-” Maui stutters, momentarily disarmed before realizing he was still on camera. With cheeks steadily getting rosier by the second, he flashes another smile and sticks out his hand. “Sure, why the hell not?! … Bu-But just in case, how much skin contact do you need for -uh- ease? Do I gotta take off my shirt er somethin’?”

“No, I think that would get us demonetized… Just let me hold your arm. Like this.” The pink haired girl wrapped both her arms around Maui’s right arm, binding it in place for the time being. “I should easily be able to pull out any poison before it becomes a problem.”

Maui flushes quite a bit as Elle suddenly wraps herself around his arm, his on camera persona breaking for an instant. “U-Uhh- Yea, this is nice. Suure doesn’t feel like anythin’ is happenin’ right now though…”

“You need to consume the poison before I can really do anything.”

You can’t help but notice RJ sighing and shaking his head in the background.

“Ha-Hah, right…” Not wasting another second, Maui swipes up the second glass and chugs it all down once more, his face squinching slightly at the soapy taste. Elle squeezes his arm tightly, clearly focusing on filtering everything out. She made this really deadly and didn’t want to kill him.

Killing someone accidentally with a super poison again would be horrible.

“Are you doing alright?” Elle asked, after she finished dealing with the poison.

“Hmmm, other than feelin’ a little warm I think I’m doin’ jus’ fine. Maybe I shoulda drank even more-! Hey RJ, grab me another cup will ya?” He jokes, laughing.

It seemed Maui might have said the wrong words here, because Elle absolutely preened at that. “I suppose that means you find my method of poison extraction to be superior to Mr Mendoza’s salt bath. Of course. Salt is impressive in some ways, but Poison is by far the superior element.”

RJ glares at Elle, disgust and annoyance evident in his face. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Rather hear it from Maui then from you putting words in his mouth.”

“He all but said it already!” the girl huffs. She unwraps herself from Maui’s arm dramatically while looking directly at RJ. “See, I’m not influencing him. I have no doubt as to his answer.”

Uh oh. Wrong words said indeed, this was NOT how Maui envisioned his joke to land. Now with both of his friends looking towards him for an answer to an impossible situation… there was only one thing left to do…

“Whoaa guys- guys,” Maui says raising his hands in hopes of pacifying the building tension, “This is… This is all jus’ fun ‘nd games, yenno? A-Actually- That reminds me!”

Without skipping another beat, Maui flees offstage, still blabbering as he does.

“I actually got you guys some gifts while I was travellin’ around that I’ve been meanin’ to give- OH FU-“

Suddenly, a crash. The camera topples onto the floor, the last thing the audience sees and hears is a big meaty brown man cursing and apologizing at the same time before the broadcast abruptly ends.

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liqnus · 5 years ago

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So I joined the discord and went digging... (critique/concerns post)

long post because of screenshots, sorry in advance!

(Context: they were talking about the recent banwave concerning people asking their partners to move offsite, and Also Spencer was asking how they managed to find people that asked about this sort of thing.)

(the conversation after this has already been screencapped in another post so I won’t include it here)

So, here are my concerns as a user...

From what I understand, the Discord member Pink aggressively suggested that there should have been a notice sent out (presumably they meant on the website) stating that accounts who have asked their partners to move offsite will be permabanned in the next banwave. TTMIYH responded that there WAS a notice sent out, in the form of extensive discussion on the discord server. Shenanigans reasserts this by stating that “it was discussed a lot,” and that it was “in the rules since day one.”

In this case I’m assuming “it” is the rule to not go off site? Correct me if I am wrong.

What Pink seemed to take issue with was that the punishment of violating rule three (pictured below) was stated to warrant only a “Tier 3″ punishment, which, on the site, is described as “(Up to) [a] 7 Day Ban.” However, the mod team decided to disregard the normal punishment in response to legal issues, switched it to a permaban for the recent ban wave (either a Tier 4 or Tier 5 punishment, I’m not sure which). Pink agreed that the rule was a good one, but was irritated that there was no official warning or announcement on the punishment becoming more severe (such as an updated rule page/description or a message on the Home tab).

Moderator Shenanigans and Administrator TTMIYH stated that discussion of the increased punishment had taken place on the discord. My issue with this is similar to Pink’s-- not all users of cherp are on the cherp discord, or even follow cherp on tumblr. I initially found cherp through a friend who informed me of the “new cherubplay knockoff,” and I’m sure that a portion of the userbase found it through a similar fashion. Either that, or through tumblr, but certainly not discord.

Shenanigans and TTMIYH’s words on the matter seem to imply that if you were in the discord, you would’ve received a heads up on the increased penalty. Thus, as a user, it would be logical to assume that the importance of the discord server is stated somewhere on the website, correct?

Of the seven tabs on the ribbon, only two of the links mention the discord, with the third being the discord link itself. It is mentioned once on each page.

On the homepage:

And on the rules:

My issue with this is that, assuming that the discord contains important information regarding the state of the rules and the server, the website should emphasize its importance. Since it doesn’t do so, users who:

1. Are not interested in socializing with other users

2. Do not want to see the comprehensive list of issues on the discord

3. Do not wish to speak to the moderators in real time

Will not be incentivized to join it. Additionally, the official cherp tumblr is also not listed anywhere, so its implied importance to the site is... nothing. I wasn’t in the discord prior to this, and I also didn’t follow the tumblr. From the setup of the website, I assumed that important updates or changes would be listed on the Home tab, but it seems that I was incorrect. In the future, I think it would be beneficial for the site to either emphasize the discord’s importance for receiving updates, or to post updates on both the site and the discord.

I understand that moderators may invoke harsher punishments if they deem it necessary, since it says so on the rule page (pictured below). Mod discretion is something that can be appealed to a different moderator or administrator most of the time, so I’m not complaining about them using their power in this way. However, it seems that the recent banwave was a decision that was agreed upon by most of the moderation team, if not all of it, since there is no infighting among them in regards to the issue during this conversation (given that only TTMIYH and Shenanigans were present, this assumption of mine should be taken with a grain of salt).

In my opinion, large scale decisions like these should be announced to the userbase-- if not for their sake, then for the sake of the moderators who will have to deal with every single banned person asking “why am I permabanned?” My main gripe with this whole situation is that the mods didn’t communicate the increased punishment properly to the entirety of the userbase, which resulted in this argument happening in the first place.

There’s also that weird part in the screenshot where what Shenanigans says implies that the mods may have read through chat histories in order to find specific phrases, such as asking people to move offsite onto discord, or asking people for tumblr usernames and etc. This is brought up by Pink, but never addressed again as far as I could tell. Take that as you will. I don’t have any strong opinions on that aside from feeling a tad bit violated, but I understand that it may be an issue for other people.

It might be wise to have this sort of thing rely on the reporting system instead of taking it into their own hands if my assumption is correct. If it is not correct, I’m sorry that I accused you of reading through your user base’s chat histories, but I didn’t have sufficient evidence to think otherwise what with the phrasing of the conversation. I’m assuming that there may be a bot of some kind, but again: not enough information.

But uhh yeah that sums up my thoughts on this situation. Pretty wild, hope I dont die for saying this

#cherp #long post

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dentalmarketingmelbourne · 4 years ago

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Importance of Dental Marketing

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sml8180 · 5 years ago

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Ego Christmas - Day 19 - Party

Just for reference, this is the main part of Dark’s outfit in this story

Party

The manor was in a state of chaos for most of the morning. The Egos were rushing around, making preparations for a Christmas party they were going to be hosting that night. They were making sure the manor ballroom was decorated properly, that snacks were prepared, and everything else was in order.

By that evening, nearing the time the party was supposed to start, Dark was in his room, getting ready for the night. Though, he didn’t look the same as he normally did. He didn’t look like a man at all; Dark had taken the form of a slender woman as they leaned over the bathroom sink to put the final touches on their makeup.

“I’m not sure about this, Wil,” Dark stated, looking over the feminine reflection in the mirror.

“Everything will be fine, my sweet,” Wil reassured, coming up behind Dark to wrap his arms around their waist. “Everyone who’ll be here has an open mind, they were all at our wedding, after all.”

“I suppose it’s just the nerves talking,” Dark responded. They took a deep breath, smiling a bit as Wilford gave them a soft kiss on the cheek before pulling away.

“Must be,” Wilford confirmed as he buttoned the last couple of buttons on the white shirt he wore.

“Mm-hm,” Dark hummed. “Now out, I want the final reveal to be a surprise,” they stated, playfully pushing their husband out of the bathroom and shutting the door.

Wilford chuckled, but began to finish getting ready, himself. He pulled out a green bowtie that had gingerbread men and candy canes printed on it, humming as he looked in the mirror by the door while he tied it. After he finished with the bowtie, Wil pulled on a set of green suspenders, running his thumbs under them. Finally, he pulled on a red and white suit jacket, similar to the one he had worn in the past, aside from this one having thinner stripes. As he was making the final adjustments to his collar and buttoning his jacket, Wil caught the bathroom door opening out of the corner of his eye.

Dark stepped out of the bathroom, smoothing their hands over the dress they wore over a set of black tights. The dress reached their knees, flaring out a bit from the waist; the jewel cut neckline, cuffs of the short sleeves, and waistline of the dress were all white, with the neckline being accented by a white bow set to the left side, while the rest of the dress was a vibrant red. Dark’s hair was longer than usual, and far more tame; it fell in gentle waves to their shoulders, and was brushed off to one side, pulled over their left shoulder and pinned in place with silver clips. Their lips were bright red, and the wings framing their eyes could cut steel. To round everything out, Dark wore a set of red shoes to match the dress. Their aura was more contained, allowing the colors of the outfit to show through much more than they usually would.

“You look stunning,” Wilford breathed, taking hold of Dark’s hands and smiling fondly.

“Thank you,” Dark replied, returning their husband’s smile. “The others will be here soon, we shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

“Of course,” Wil responded, offering his arm to Dark and grinning even brighter when the gesture was accepted, before walking out of the room and heading down to the main entry hall with Dark.

The Septic Egos hadn’t yet arrived, to Dark’s quiet relief; the manor’s Egos would see them like this first. There were a handful of Egos at the base of the stairs; Illinois, Eric, Bim, Dr. Iplier, and the Jim twins were all chatting, dressed for the party that would soon be starting. As they heard steps coming down towards them, the group turned to see who was approaching; CJ angling his camera up towards the stairs out of habit.

“Whoa,” Illinois breathed, taking in Dark’s suddenly different appearance.

“Looking great, Dark,” Dr. Iplier commented, smiling at the sight.

“Pretty!” Eric exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of his feet a bit.

“I love the hair,” Bim told them, smiling.

“We haven’t seen you like this in so long!” RJ exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of his feet in a similar fashion to Eric.

Dark let out a quiet laugh, “I thought it was about time to embrace this again. It has been a while, after all, and times have changed.”

“Feminine pronouns, like we used to?” CJ asked, adjusting his grip on his camera.

“Of course,” Dark confirmed, seeming more relaxed at these initial reactions. The entire group moved into the ballroom, where Dark was able to give the space a final once-over to make sure everything was perfect.

It wasn’t long before the doorbell rang, and several of the Egos rushed to make last second adjustments as Dark made her way to the door, nervously smoothing out the skirt of her dress as she went. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door, revealing the seven Septic Egos standing on the other side.

The seven guests fell into a stunned silence when Dark opened the door; they clearly hadn’t expected to see a woman when they arrived. Though Dark didn’t let it show, she was on pins and needles as she waited for a response.

“Dark?” Chase was the first to speak up, addressing the demon before them.

“This is different, I know,” Dark stated. “But, I haven’t done this in a long time.”

“You look great!” Marvin exclaimed, smiling brightly.

“Pretty…” Robbie chimed in.

“If this is how you wanna be, why should we have any issue with it?” Jackie questioned. “It’s your body and in your home, after all.”

“Thank you, all of you,” Dark stated, a bright smile lighting up her face. “Come in, then, the others are in the ballroom.” She stepped aside as she spoke, letting the Septic Egos inside.

“Will you still be going by the same pronouns while like this?” Henrik asked as he and the others followed Dark towards the ballroom.

“I would prefer feminine pronouns, actually,” Dark told him.

“Of course,” the doctor responded, nodding.

“Silver!” Jackie exclaimed, jumping up and flying towards his fellow hero, who was hovering up towards the ceiling, having adjusted one of the decorations.

The Jim twins quickly approached, greeting JJ and Robbie before leading them over to where they had been playing with a handful of balloons they had blown up. Henrik made his way over to Dr. Iplier, and the pair quickly fell into a rapid-fire conversation filled with English, German, and medical jargon. Chase was practically tackled by Bing, who pulled him towards Google and the extensions, while Marvin seemed to pop out of existence and appeared beside Bim in a puff of green and blue smoke. Anti simply took in the scene, his form glitching a bit as he stood there.

Dark glanced over at Anti, giving him a bit of a nod before wandering off to mingle with some of the others. Music began to play from somewhere in the room, and it soon turned out to be that the source was someone, as it became evident that the instrumental holiday music was coming from Green, one of Google’s extensions. She giggled to herself, smiling as she watched everyone interacting and generally having a good time.

The party went much smoother than Dark had anticipated. There were some chaotic moments, thanks to Anti finally warming up to the situation and deciding to mess with the androids and three new Egos. His antics were brought down a bit when Yancy had nearly punched him after he’d come up behind the former inmate and shocked him in the back of the neck. It wasn’t long after that when Yancy had slipped away, followed by Eric and Ed. The three returned after a bit, each carrying a tray filled with cups of eggnog, no doubt a fresh batch of the same recipe Yancy had made for the Egos not long ago. Each Ego in the ballroom got a cup, and Wilford did his best to get everybody’s attention without causing any damage to the manor, raising his voice before simply snapping his fingers, bringing about the effect of a pink firework going off above everyone’s heads, causing them to all turn to face the man.

“Alright, everyone!” Wilford called out over the crowd. “This has been a fantastic get-together so far, if I do say so myself. Things’ll continue soon, but first, Dark wants to make a toast.”

Dark stepped up beside Wil, a calm smile on her face. “Thank you, Wil,” she stated, pulling Wilford down by the shoulder and planting a kiss on his cheek. “And thank you all for turning up and not causing any damage.” A moment of laughter rose from the gathered Egos. “This is the first holiday season at the manor for five of the Egos here, and that is certainly exciting. We have a wonderful family that we’ve built here over the years, and some brilliant friendships have been built, as well. So, I propose a toast; to the coming new year, to friends, and most importantly, to family.”

Everyone seemed to agree, toasting to Dark’s statement and taking a sip from their cups before they started to get back to mingling. Dark kept by Wilford’s side, watching as Yancy began to chat with Bim and Marvin, and Magnum joined JJ, Robbie, the twins, Oliver, and Eric, with Illinois eventually joining them. She was glad that everyone seemed to be getting along, and was content to remain by Wil’s side, sipping her eggnog and watching the party go on.

#egochristmas2019 #Darkiplier #Wilford Warfstache #Darkstache #Markiplier Egos #Jacksepticeye Egos #Genderfluid Dark #Fem!Dark #long post

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chriswoakes-blog1 · 5 years ago

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Bitcoin robot scam

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nattikay · 6 years ago

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First Thoughts on Weredad

-Ok but it was never really explained why Gigantitan was back, what the friggidy frik Hawkmoth haven’t you learned your lesson about akumatizing babies and children?? Knock that off you butt >:(

-Ladybug mom potential confirmed ;) haha

-Aww Tom is so worried about Marinette, what a good dad

-Chat: (looks like he’s about to figure out Marinette’s identity) Chat later: “I was so sure she was just gonna be a fan like Alya!” Adrien my boy I love you but you are reaching New Levels of Dumb™

-How the friggity floop did Tom even fit through that trapdoor

-Wait so. I’ve heard Tom’s surname being just Dupain and Sabine’s just being Cheng while Marinette is hyphenated. But Sabine is called Dupain-Cheng here...but Tom is still just Dupain? what is going on I am confused why doesn’t Tom have Cheng if Sabine still has Dupain what

-...did Tom just bribe Chat with macarons

-Ok Tom calm down too far

-Plagg you are enjoying your secret identity knowledge far too much. Suffer like the rest of us. 3:<

-Lol @ Tom fanboying

-When Tom hugs Chat and it’s so bittersweet because man you KNOW he doesn’t get fatherly affection like that at home ;_;

- “I mean, I would marry me if I could!” OK CHAT TOO FAR

-As much as my Adrienette shipper heart wants Adrien, and therefore by extension Chat, to open his dang eyes and recognize that he might just have feelings for Marinette, him being upfront about is loyalty to Ladybug is 1000% the best route he could’ve taken here. It assures Marinette that his feelings for Ladybug are genuine and not some shallow fleeting things (she’d been complaining to Tikki earlier: “he fell for someone else in, what, 2 seconds?? Is that all his love is worth??”) and that he is willing to be honest about it. That’ll do wonders for their future relationship and how Marinette/Ladybug perceives Chat, much more than if Chat had pretended to return Marinette’s “affections” to be polite.

-Marinette I know you needed to pretend to be sad but too far girl

-Basically everyone’s reactions are too far somewhere or other lol

-Well except Sabine. Sabine is based haha

- “You’re a good boy, Chat Noir” heck yes he is

-A giant stalk...a magical rose in the light...a werewolf...what kind of bizarre fairy tale conglomeration is this?? lol

-I think this is the first time we’ve seen Chat fight an akuma almost entirely solo. Though I’m a bit unclear as to what's making him so wiped out? Like is it a magic thing, part of Weredad’s powers? He’s fought much more intense battles hardly breaking a sweat, and yet this totally wipes him out. He did seem to perk up after the Miraculous Cure so I can only assume it was somehow part of the akuma powers but it’s never really made clear (unless I missed it) so...idk

-Also interesting to see Marinette do her part completely untransformed, up until the end when she needed to purify the akuma and such of course

-I know that rendering actual fur is too expensive for TV but I’d still like to see Weredad in full fluffy glory lol (I know he has a slight painted fur texture but it’s hard to see in most of the shots)

- this is Tom’s fursona and you can’t tell me otherwise

-Chat’s speech about loneliness ;_; STOP BREAKING MY HEART LIKE THIS MY POOR BBY BOY

-Chat attempting to continue fighting even when he's all exhausted also breaks my heart ;_; SABINE IS VERY CORRECT HE IS A GOOD BOY

-Use of Cataclysm felt a little forced ^^” Like I mean is there any particular reason the Lucky Charm couldn't have just been a glider in the first place? Ah well, not a particularly important point I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

-Also exhausted Chat cuddling up to Ladybug when they land is very adorable

-Sabine and Tom are 👌 A+ pure couple

-Anyways people can ship what they want but I’m taking this episode as further evidence for why I reeeeally find pre-reveal romantic Marichat to be very ooc. Post-reveal, awesome, yes, great, have at it. But as badly as I want the love square to get together...I’m sorry but I just can’t get behind this corner pre-reveal. :/

-On that note, let’s please put to rest the idea that the love square needs to be reversed before the reveal because they “only love one side”. Clearly Ladybug already loves Chat and Adrien already loves Marinette, it’s just not in a romantic way right now. Say they just care a lot about each other if you’d rather phrase it that way. But the fact that Chat doesn’t view Marinette romantically right now because he already has romantic feelings for Ladybug and doesn’t know they’re the same person and doesn’t mean he’s “uninterested in her other side”, and vice-versa. Being loyal to the person they already have feelings for is not a bad thing, they have perfectly legitimate and not shallow reasons for loving the “sides” that they do, and they still care deeply about the “sides” that they (romantically) don’t. We don’t need a pre-reveal reversal.

-...oops ramble but anyways yeah a reveal would be nice because Wow These Two Are Dumb™

#miraculous #ml spoilers #weredad

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tardis-sapphics · 6 years ago

Note

what about an angsty/ends in fluff fic based on your last reblog? yaz notices the doctor throwing "love" around constantly and it hurts a little more each time it isn't directed at her?

man i had so much fun writing this, what a way to start 2019!

also, there are some slightly spoilery little bits about doctor who: resolution so if you haven’t watched it yet, so if you haven’t watched it yet, please come back to read this after you’ve rectified that terrible situation.

as always, i am incapable of writing normal-length responses to prompts, so there’s the rest under the cut. enjoy!

Love.

She threw that word around a lot.

It was part of the magic that was innate to her. A bucketful of curiosity, a taste for danger, just a pinch of madness - and an endless amount of love. The Doctor’s hearts were so big, it was incredible that she could stand under the weight of them.

Every single day Yaz had known her, the Doctor had professed her love for something or other. It didn’t matter how big or small it was. From apple-bobbing to conspiracies, to her biscuits or Team TARDIS - everything was worthy in her eyes, everything needed to be commented on.

Maybe it did, for the Doctor. Slowly, Yaz, Graham and Ryan were completing the puzzle of the Doctor’s illustrious past - piece by piece, comment by comment. They were never going to find out everything, but what they knew so far was enough for Yaz to know of the heartbreak having two hearts full of love brought.

All of the friends the Doctor had made only to watch them fall. The collateral damage, the planets visited, the planets destroyed right in front of her eyes. Everything turning to dust after its creation. Yaz couldn’t comprehend it all. Just to love everything again after all that seemed an act of defiance.

The Doctor couldn’t say it enough. It didn’t feel like a proper day with her if she didn’t celebrate her love, in all its forms. It didn’t feel like a proper day if the Doctor wasn’t almost overly excited about something, the little and the big. The universe just didn’t function right, somehow.

At the start, Yaz’s heart burst at every mention. The more they shared with each other, the more she could cherish. The Doctor’s magic would pass from her being into Yaz’s, it would fill up and she’d grow, every day stronger and better and more grateful.

The universe was more beautiful with love in it.

The universe was more beautiful with the Doctor in it.

It was when Yaz started to combine those sentences together that it became more and more bittersweet. Loving the Doctor was easy, Yaz knew. It was like loving energy itself. It didn’t even occur to her that she wouldn’t. But just because the act of it was easy, it didn’t mean the entire experience was. She loved the Doctor’s love, she always would, and she loved how it was seemingly endless…

It was just never directed at her.

That was all. She could live with it. It was nothing to cry about.

(Just didn’t feel like nothing, though.)

“Aw, I love this one!” the Doctor grinned as they stepped out of the TARDIS, off on yet another adventure. “The Leizich Gift, this place is called. The entire planet’s a conservation centre, bestowed as a present to the Skreun president from two very famous conservationists, the Leizich Sisters. Lovely people, once beat ‘em in an arm wrestling competition. Gertrude was surprisingly strong, but Geraldine was weak as anything. I was quite disappointed, really. D’you know, there are more animals roaming here than there are humans on Earth!” She turned back to her best friends, throwing her arms wide. “And I love ‘em all!”

Yaz’s smile was only half intact.

Fresh into 2019, and they were starting it off the right way. It was deserved, the Doctor had said, after that tussle with the Dalek. Instead of creepy farm buildings and governmental centres, they were being treated to nice, harmless creatures living their best lives.

“D’you think there’ll be a café?” Graham wondered as he finally stepped out of the police box. “If not, I brought tuna sandwiches, just in case.”

“Never liked tuna,” Ryan sniffed. “‘Sides, you’re gonna attract all the animals with ‘em.”

“Ain’t that what we want?”

His grandson paused. “Depends if they ‘ave fangs or not.”

The Doctor, a little bit further in front with Yaz, had turned around and watched this exchange. Then she tutted like an impatient mother, hands on her hips and all.

“I love those two to bits, but they aren’t half slow,” she complained to Yaz. She raised her voice to address the two men. “Come on, slow pokes! We’ve not even got our passes yet!”

So that was even Ryan and Graham, Yaz noted. The Doctor loved everyone. Everyone but her.

They’d landed in the tropical section of the planet. Rich in juicy red foliage and humming with humidity, it was a good deal different to Sheffield on New Year’s Day. Yaz’s outer clothes quickly became too much; both Ryan and Graham shucked off their jackets. Luckily, a lot of the path was overgrown with vines and other plants that had become skilled at tripping walkers up. They required a truck to travel through - so the group at least got to put their jackets on the truck bed while they peered at the thick trees.

After almost every bend, the Doctor pointed out a new animal, rattling off a new fact at lightning speed. She never missed a trick. Most of the creatures were never seen by the others, but they sounded fascinating enough, and Yaz was determined to let herself enjoy the trip.

It was also a nice distraction from noticing just how close the Doctor was while they were crouched on the back of a truck. Plenty of space on the truck bed and she’d chosen to snuggle up right next to Yaz, even resting one of her legs on top of the other woman’s.

(Yaz could smell peppermint and engine oil, and just a hint of nutmeg.)

The Doctor almost jumped out of her seat, suddenly. “Oh!” she cried with joy, flinging up an arm and pointing at something in the distance. She moved it to counteract the trajectory of the truck. “A flotto! Aw, mate, I love a good flotto! Just there, in between those burgundy branches, look.”

Everyone followed the direction of her finger to find a rather fat, round creature, lazily taking in the day’s heat. From what Yaz could make out in the few seconds she’d seen it, a flotto was like a hippo with a thick snake’s head, and it was covered in glistening black scales. Scary looking thing, Yaz thought. Almost like a dragon.

It caught sight of them and sniffed, curious. Graham shifted nervously, looking down at his pockets stuffed with sandwiches. But apparently tuna wasn’t on its menu for today, and neither were three tasty humans and an alien from outer space. Thank goodness. It just shuffled deeper into the trees instead.

The Doctor seemed to read her thoughts. “Y’see, it looks terrifying,” she explained. Now they had spotted it, she let her hand accompany its partner in a crazy dance, a constant product of the Doctor’s need to physically express herself. “Their fangs are some of the largest on this entire planet. They’ve been made into mythological creatures a thousand times over across this galaxy and hunted extensively ‘cause of it. But actually, they’re completely harmless. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Evolution’s just like that sometimes.” The Doctor sighed happily. “Ah, I love ‘em. Nearly accidentally bought one off a black market just a couple of planets over. Complete misunderstanding, that language was a new one to me.”

The truck charged on, and they lost sight of the creature. The Doctor retrieved her arm and, seemingly without a thought, flung it over Yaz’s shoulder.

Yaz was left to calm her heart rate while the Doctor smiled and closed her eyes, basking in the heat and the calm of the day.

Hours later and the white sun was still high in the sky. Yaz was sweating buckets now, even with her jacket tied around her waist, and she wasn’t the only one. Even the Doctor had had to take her coat off. Neither did it help that they’d left the truck behind, electing to continue their journey on foot. Yaz didn’t know when they were going to stop walking and head back to the TARDIS, but she wasn’t enjoying the prospect of the return trip. She had no idea how long that was going to take.

Yaz was walking alongside the Doctor. It was just the two of them, and this was how it usually was. Ryan and Graham brought up the rear, taking in the sights at their own pace and having their family chats, while Yaz tried to soak up as much one-on-one time with Doctor as possible. Plus, any exercise she lost out on by not sticking to her workout regime was duly recovered just from trying to keep up with the Doctor’s quick pace.

Yaz lived for these moments. It was nice to see the Doctor relax, to be content with their surroundings and just let herself enjoy it. No people to see, no planets to save. They could joke together, talk through past adventures, listen to each other’s worries. When Yaz was in the deep end of her despair over her unrequited affection, these were the memories that made her feel better again. No matter what the Doctor felt for her, they at least bonded well.

But Yaz was quieter today, and the Doctor was evidently too excited to notice, throwing stories out like she needed them to live.

So perhaps it was a defence mechanism, Yaz deduced, after seeing a Dalek again. Go off and pretend it didn’t affect you, until you have the space to deal with it. She recognised it well; it was part of her job, after all. The standoff with the Dalek had been quite the scare, and they’d all been shaken by it, especially Ryan, but it was over now, and by and large they’d all recovered. Still, none of the humans had had any previous run-ins with the alien, no bad blood. Of course it was going to take the Doctor a little bit longer to process.

Still, in her hurt, it didn’t help to see the Doctor so oblivious, even more so than usual.

Or so Yaz thought. Distracted as she was by her miserable internal monologue, she barely noticed the other woman’s free hand slipping into hers. It was only with a quick squeeze that it was brought to her attention.

Yaz jolted, entirely unprepared. The Time Lord often held her hand but it was usually to hurry the team along. And it definitely wasn’t with interlocked fingers, either.

It was far too nice.

“You’re quiet, Yaz,” the Time Lord remarked. “Anything you want to talk about?”

You, was Yaz’s first thought. But that came across as a little too… heavy.

If she was honest, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to voice these fears, afraid she’d say too much. Her worst nightmare would be to feel the Doctor distance herself from Yaz, to create space between them when she only wanted to be closer.

But she was here in the first place, travelling with the Doctor, because she’d wanted to do more, to be more. Because she’d had the guts to invite herself on board. She couldn’t say no, not now; she couldn’t stop herself. This was who she was.

Diving headfirst into it even if it killed her.

“You always say you love things,” Yaz started, looking down to avoid the Doctor’s gaze, “pretty much every day. It’s lovely, Doctor, but…” She held out her hand to push away a giant red leaf in their way. “Why’ve you never said it about me?”

The Doctor watched her, puzzled. Her movement through the rainforest floor was effortless, even deep in thought, and Yaz envied her.

“I swear I have,” the Doctor responded.

“Nope.”

“Never?”

“Never,” Yaz nodded. She took in a deep breath. “Trust me. I wouldn’t’ve forgotten.”

She finally caught the Doctor’s eye - and she had to subdue a gasp at the sorrow that resided in them. It was like the Doctor’s hearts had broken open.

“Yasmin Khan,” the Doctor announced, and they stopped right there, almost covered by more humongous scarlet foliage. The Doctor hung her coat on a branch near her and turned to face Yaz. She now made sure to hold both of Yaz’s hand, and brought them together to cradle like they were a precious stone, worth more than her weight in gold. “Yasmin Khan, don’t ever think I don’t love you. I’m stupid to have not said it to you already. Fact is, I do love you. Very much, as it happens, which makes me an idiot for having forgotten to tell you!”

Okay, this was definitely more of an announcement than Yaz had been expecting. She was unsteady under the weight of the Doctor’s sincerity, a light ablaze in the Time Lord’s eyes.

All she could do was keep watching, mouth half-open, half-unbelieving. But there was a little part of her, daring to believe it.

“I’d certainly thought about telling you,” the Doctor continued. “I tell you all the time, in my head. Whenever you speak my language, or do something clever - which is all the time - or whenever you smile - ‘cause it’s the loveliest sight, Yaz, I swear - or whenever you look out for someone…” She huffed. “I’m getting distracted. Yasmin Khan, I couldn’t not love you if I tried.”

“In what way?” Yaz asked, before she could stop herself.

For goodness’ sake, Yaz, she chastised herself immediately, just take it. Just take it. She’d got what she wanted.

She was too busy mentally kicking herself to notice the Doctor’s blink of surprise.

“Oh, um…”

“As in,” Yaz continued, despite her embarrassment. This was going to haunt her for as long as she’d live. “You don’t love me the way you love custard creams, right?”

The Doctor laughed. “My love for custard creams is very special and unique,” she joked. Her eyes dropped lower, though - still on Yaz, but this time on her lips, on her body, and back up to her eyes again. “But no. It’s more than just that. It’s very much… more.”

The tiniest little gasp escaped from Yaz.

Well. That was… that was something.

“That’s a relief,” she breathed.

Their moment to just watch each other, euphoric, lasted for a second - enormously long under the weight of their confessions yet over all too quickly. Ryan and Graham had finally caught up, and their loud stomping through the trees and plants was preceding them.

“And I love you in a much different way to those two,” the Doctor added, “just in case any more clarification was needed.” She finally turned her head towards the sound of her other friends. “They couldn’t be quieter, could they? They’re scaring all the animals off.”

However, nothing could prepare them for the sight they were greeted with when Graham and Ryan finally came into view. Two creatures with bright violet fur, otter-like in appearance but monkey-like in nature, were sitting quite contentedly on the shoulders of the two men, their long arms lounging gracefully on the humans’ heads. Ryan looked extraordinarily pleased with himself, while Graham looked a little miffed that his creature had stolen one of his tuna sandwiches.

The Doctor’s face lit up even more. “Kakas! I love kakas!” the Doctor exclaimed. She stopped herself suddenly, a pleased smile taking over. “Not as much as I love Yasmin Khan, though.”

Yaz grinned at her. She was glowing, reassured and floored by the Doctor’s confession. Nothing was better than watching the Doctor smile at her, distracted by her once again, feeling her pull Yaz in, invite her closer.

Yaz was on cloud nine. With the way she was looking at Yaz, she knew the Doctor was too.

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