#facts about specially designed whole life policies

[certaincollections]

Whole Life Insurance for the Entrepreneur: Everyone should have life insurance. But- as a business owner, you need more protection than you can get from just a personal policy. Whole life insurance can be equally important for your family’s protection if you own a business. Here are 3 top ways:

1. Income Replacement

If your family relies on your income, they’ll need money to care for themselves after you’re gone. The death benefit can cover your salary and your other contributions to the household, like childcare.

2. Buy-Sell Agreement

Each partner purchases life insurance on the others. If one owner dies, the others use the death benefit to buy the deceased’s company shares. Not all buy-sell agreements have to involve life insurance, but we recommended it. If the surviving owner(s) can’t buy back the company’s shares, it puts the business at risk.

[duskholland]

Meet Your Match || Mob!Tom Smut

Summary ↠ It’s always awkward when your current boyfriend meets your ex, but it’s a whole new level when it transpires that your ex-boyfriend is the leader of Tom’s rival mob...

Warnings ↠ 18+, contains mature nsfw material. There are extended warnings beneath the cut, but this is quite heavy. 

Word count ↠ 5.9k

A/N ↠ Genuinely am shocked that this came out of my head tbh. It is very intense so please consult the warnings before you dive in ! The entire concept of the first half is very random and almost crack, but then the second half...phew. Sheesh. Thanks to V, mischiefandi, for suggesting I write in a hot Irish mobster as Y/N’s ex...love that for her, and I love you V. I hope you all enjoy this :)

This is a part of my mob!Tom series – a collection of oneshots set within the same universe. You don’t need to read the other parts for this to make sense! You can find the other parts in my masterlist.

18+ do not touch this if you are a minor. 

extended warnings: lol. mob themes including gun mention and punching, a broken nose ft minor mentions of blood, a bit of a dodgy ex who makes some uncomfortable comments, alcohol, possessive!jealous!Tom, d/s dynamics, soft!dom!Tom, mean!dom!Tom, thigh riding, oral (f receiving), spitting, orgasm denial and edging, guided masturbation, rough sex, doggy-style, like two minor instances of spanking, he calls her slut once. im not here to fuck around this goes hard so if you aren’t into rough stuff this isn’t for you. also includes unprotected sex -- please practise safe sex (condoms provide barriers against STIs as well as unwanted pregnancy. pls be safe irl). i would like mob!tom to rail me thank u. enjoy.

--------- Meet Your Match ---------

You’d never given much thought to the possibility of Tom meeting one of your exes. Why would you, when being with him is infinitely more satisfying, loving, and enjoyable than it had ever been with one of them? 

But if you’d had to imagine it, you would’ve pictured it casually. Maybe you’d be out somewhere together - at a café, or a market, with Tom’s arm wrapped safely around you. You’d see your ex - whoever it may be - and there’d be an awkward encounter. The exchange of painful hellos and goodbyes, maybe some piercing stares, and pinched words. Then, you’d move on, and that would be that. 

Never, in your wildest dreams, would you have imagined you’d run into your ex-boyfriend whilst in attendance at a meeting of the London mobs. 

It’s a special event - a large, networking occasion, organised by Tom, as an opportunity for him to meet with his partners and rivals, as they come together to cordially bond over beer and discuss business plans. It’s hosted right in the centre of Piccadilly, in the elegant conference room of a luxurious hotel. You’re just starting to relax and settle in when you glance across the room and see him:

Aidan. Your ex-boyfriend. At… A meeting of the mobs of London? 

“What the fuck,” you mutter. You almost drop your glass of champagne as you narrow your eyes and stare. The conference room is vast, adorned with glittering chandeliers and large banquet tables, but it’s undeniable: Aidan is here. 

“Everything alright, love?” Tom’s by your side, one of his arms wrapped loosely around your shoulders. He’s in remarkably high spirits this evening. The event is fully underway, and judging by the snippets of conversation you’ve been hearing, Tom’s latest plans are coming into fruition - something about warehouses, and a shipment of class A drugs. But none of it matters now, because your mind is entirely elsewhere.

“No,” you state immediately. 

Tom cranes his neck, his eyes seeking you out. You manage to drag your gaze away from Aidan for a brief second.

“What is it?” He’s looking at you with those deep, warm brown eyes, and his gaze is so tender it makes your breath hitch. One of Tom’s fingers moves up to caress your cheek, and you find yourself shifting guiltily on your feet.

“Who, exactly, did you invite to this meeting?” You ask your boyfriend, speaking in hushed tones. Your eyes slip back to Aidan, and you feel yourself relax as you note he’s still deep in conversation with a few men. 

“Suppliers, rivals, allies… Anyone of importance, really.” Tom narrows his eyes, his thumb brushing over your chin as he looks at you closely. “Why?”

“Did you know that you’ve also invited my ex-boyfriend?”

Judging by the look of utter shock on Tom’s face, he had not, in fact, realised his fundamental truth.

“Who?” He asks immediately. His face shifts through several shades before settling on jealous, with his eyebrows bunched together. 

You turn around, resting one hand on the broad shoulder of Tom’s suit before using your other to point out across the crowd.

“Aidan.” 

Tom squints his eyes, a small rumbling noise travelling up his throat. “Aidan?” He repeats, his voice flooded with confusion. You hum affirmatively. “Bloke with the blond hair? Irish?” Again, a hum. Tom releases a short, curt chuckle. “Angel, he’s not called Aidan.”

“What?” You exclaim. 

Tom releases a deep sigh. “That’s Gordy. He runs the Eastside.” 

You feel your jaw loosen. A fake name. “Gordy Byrne?”

“The one and only.”

“Shit.”

You’ve been with Tom for a year. Over those long, fulfilling twelve months, you’ve picked up on several important key pieces of information about the London mob: it’s split into three factions, each sector run by a different figurehead. Tom and his family control the South-West, and they’re in constant disagreement with Gordy, of the East, and Monique, of the North. Each third is continuously testing the waters, trying to take over land, and supplies, and emerge as the solo Kingpin of London. The fragile alliance between the three families is constantly on the verge of disintegration. 

And Gordy is your ex, who you’d met three years ago at the same exclusive club you’d worked in when you’d met Tom. Your relationship had lasted eight months and ended on equal terms as you’d mutually agreed the spark had fizzled away. Despite the considerable span of your relationship, you’d had no suspicions that he’d been involved with the mob. The thought is incredibly jarring.

“Seems like you have a type,” Tom comments, his voice entirely too flippant. 

Before you can call him out on his apparent feelings of resentment, your evening takes a further turn as you realise Gordy has spotted you and is now working his way through the sea of people towards you. 

He looks just as you remember: 6’2, blond, green-eyed. His shoulders are stocky and broad, and his suit bulges with disguised muscles. He maintains that signature swagger you’d come to associate with him, his eyes glinting as he throws out a wild smile. Your eyes catch on the presence of a few new golden teeth fixed in his mouth, and then to the tattooed knuckles that hang by his side.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” Gordy greets, green eyes skimming across you appreciatively, “Who’d ‘a thought we’d meet again?”

All you can really do is let out a squeak of agreement, and pull away from Tom’s side to greet the man with a kiss on the cheek. The familiar scent of Gordy’s musky cologne drifts up your nose, and it makes your head spin.

“What are you doing here?” You ask as you pull away, looking at him incredulously. His pale cheeks wear a scruff of fuzz, highlighting the high arches of his cheekbones. 

“What are you doing here?” He returns, his Irish accent twanging. His eyes shift over to Tom, then back to you, and then they watch as Tom reaches out and carefully tangles his fingers with yours. “Wait…”

“Evening, mate,” Tom greets, voice a little clipped. You feel the grip on your hand tighten, and you let him reel you back into his side. You find home beneath Tom’s heavy arm as he repositions it across your shoulder, keeping you near. “I see you’ve already met my girlfriend.”

The air seems to flicker with tension.

“Interesting,” Gordy comments. He shifts his attention back to you, drawing the lines of your face with his curious eyes. “Didn’t take you for the type, Y/N. Would’ve stuck around if I’d thought you could handle this life.”

His words dig into you, and you find yourself clenching your teeth.

“You told me you worked in banking.”

“Oh, I do.” He runs his fingers down the front of his designer suit, winking. “The mob is quite a lucrative business.” He pauses, and something a little like guilt flashes over his face. “You know my real name, yeah? Gordy, not Aidan. Sorry about that. I hate the lies, but they’re for protection, y’know.”

You feel almost dizzy as you bring your glass of champagne to your lips and throw it back. The bubbles do little to soothe down your discomfort.

“Wow,” you manage. Your eyes shift up to Tom, who’s looking at Gordy with apprehension in his gaze. You understand why: for the past two months, Tom’s been engaged in a brutal turf-war with Gordy’s family over in the South-East. Men have died, shipments stolen. You know one of Tom’s primary motivations for the meeting tonight was to see if he could reach some kind of agreement with them, but the circumstances were tense enough as it was, before this. 

“Isn’t this fun,” Gordy comments. He’s eyeing up Tom now, a cocky smirk hanging from his plush lower lips. “Well, Thomas, it’d seem you and I have a lot more in common than we’d thought, eh? Maybe we’ll be able to come to an agreement.” 

Your stomach turns, and you feel Tom tighten his grip on your arm. He clears his throat, and when he speaks, his tone is so severe that it knocks the air from your lungs.

“Don’t talk about Y/N like that,” he warns darkly. “We will not be making any deals tonight, Gordy.”

You raise your eyebrows, trying to meet his eyes but finding that Tom ignores your attempts and instead keeps staring straight ahead at your ex-boyfriend, a determined frown hanging from his thin lips.

“Why’s that, Thomas?” He quips.

“I don’t like your attitude, I don’t like your policies, and I don’t like the way you’re looking at my girlfriend.” 

Gordy arches an eyebrow. His hand slips down slowly to rest on his hip, but not before his suit jacket has ridden up just enough to expose the sleek outline of his gun, hanging low in the holster on his belt.

“Is this how it’s going to be, Tom?” He asks, shifting his eyes back to you. “Eh? I bed your bird and suddenly business is off the table?”

You can feel the mood sour, and as much as you’d like to reach out and give Gordy a piece of your mind, you are painfully aware of the circumstances: you are standing in the lion’s den. Despite the meeting of Tom’s creation, you know that there’s no chance in hell that Gordy has walked into the evening alone. To initiate any sort of heated discussion whilst surrounded by London’s most notorious gangsters would be a disastrous move.

“Tom,” you murmur, recognising all too well the signs of anger that curl out across Tom’s face: his clenched jaw, the deep frown marks on his forehead, the tight line of his lips. “Let’s go.”

For a moment you think he’s going to follow you. Tom lets you shrug off his arm and take his hand, and his posture loosens as if he’s about to turn and walk across the room with you. But then, of course, Gordy just has to get in the last word.

“Oh, well, if you’re going, you won’t mind giving me a goodbye kiss, eh, Y/N?” He peers at you with mischievous eyes, his voice lilting lightly. “Just like old times?”

Tom’s moving before you can even attempt to stop him, and you hear a loud crack as his fist sweeps up and collides with Gordy’s nose. The man doubles over, groaning profusely, and your eyes widen as you take in the stream of blood that immediately begins to pour from his face.

“Tom!” You exclaim, your eyes wide and your hands shaking. Your boyfriend grabs at your fingers, squeezing your digits in his.

“He’s not allowed to disrespect you like that,” he mutters darkly. 

“I don’t need you to defend me, I can do it myself,” you hiss back. Your heart pounds in your chest, but you feel the hot lump of anger melt away as Tom looks at you through those brown, golden eyes, his mouth positioned into a guilty smile. 

Two men emerge from the crowd and flank Gordy’s side. You feel a deep swell of fear pool in the pit of your stomach, and instinctively your fingers move down towards your bag for the switch-blade you’d buried alongside your lipstick. But you find your actions stilling as Gordy clears his throat, rights himself and holds up a bloody hand.

“It’s fine,” Gordy tells his guards. He tilts his head in your direction. “I deserved it. No disrespect to the lady.” His beady green eyes move to Tom. “We can finish this discussion some other time, Thomas. Good evening to you both.” 

Before waiting to see if Gordy turns around and walks away, you tighten your grip on Tom’s hand and lead him out of the large conference room. It’s completely silent, and the groups of people seem to part like the sea as you escort your boyfriend from the scene, his lips brushing over the back of his bruised hand as he winces. You don’t say anything, not until you’re safely stowed away in the backseat of a large car, the doors locked, windows tinted, and driver separated by partition.

“Love, look, I’m sorry, but I-”

You cut Tom off by climbing from your seat and meeting his mouth with a deep, needy kiss. Your boyfriend releases a noise of surprise, and his hands shift up to grab at your waist as he pulls you onto his lap eagerly, pressing back against your lips with fervour. It’s messy, and you enjoy running your hands through strands of his unruly hair as he keeps you close, his fingers grasping at every area of your front and sides, mapping you out.

“What did I do to deserve that?” Tom murmurs, his curious eyes meeting yours. “Thought I was in trouble.” His hands cup your cheeks, and you give him a coy smile.

“You shouldn’t have punched him,” you tell him, biting your lip as his thumb brushes over the soft skin of your face. “I’m glad that you did, though. He was a dick.” 

Tom hums. “And also the enemy, love.”

Your eyebrows knit together, and you sit back on Tom’s wide thighs as you sigh. “I can’t believe he runs one of the other mobs,” you mutter. “I can’t believe I’ve dated two mobsters, and I didn’t even know.”

Tom’s smile doesn’t quite stretch to his eyes, but he still manages a short chuckle. “I hate the thought of you being with him,” he admits. His eyes stir with something darker, and his fingers dig into your waist. “I hate the thought of you being with anyone other than me.”

You bite your lower lip as you twirl the short strands at the nape of his neck around your fingers. “It was a long time ago,” you tell him. “Our relationship wasn’t anything of consequence.”

Your boyfriend chuckles, but he’s still got that hungry glint in his eyes. You feel a shiver roll down your spine as his gaze sweeps across your face, his hands shifting up to rest on the curves of your breasts. Your dress is thin, and the neckline meant you had to go without a bra. A soft gasp falls past your lips as Tom’s thumbs brush over the lines of your nipples, which prick in response to his touch.

“Is our relationship of consequence?” Tom asks, his voice dancing. He’s staring at your chest now, his smirk widening as you instinctively push further into his hands, enjoying the feeling of his large, warm palms groping at your breasts.

“Of course.” You swallow and bring your fingers away from his neck. With careful movements, you reach up and pull the straps of your dress from your shoulders, meeting Tom’s gaze as you roll down the front of the garment, exposing your bare chest to him. “I love you.”

Tom seeks out your neck with his lips, and you release a small gasp as he sucks firmly on the base of your throat, his fingers moving over your bare chest. You can feel his mouth pulling the blood to the surface of your skin, but the pain makes you cry out in pleasure as your fingers wrap around his suit jacket and fist at the expensive material hugging his back. He takes his time as he works his way up your neck, sucking and biting, and then soothing the throbbing marks with gentle laps of his tongue and soft, open-mouthed kisses. By the time he reaches your ear, you’re squirming in his lap.

“You are mine.”

His tongue teases the lobe of your ear as his hands move all across your bare back, caressing your skin gently with his palms. The cold metal of his silver rings bites to touch, but you shiver in enjoyment.

“Yours,” you agree. Tom shifts from your neck to look at you straight on, his eyes full of dark, heady lust.

“Mine,” he repeats. His mouth is on yours, and you let him prise apart your lips with his tongue. His hands fist at your hair and he pulls you closer roughly, and your teeth collide as he kisses you sloppily, groaning into your mouth. It’s messy - with noses bashing and his digits tugging at your strands and your lips moving everywhere, slick with spit - but you feel him gather you up in his arms as he holds you. He owns you.

You make-out until the car arrives home, at which point your lips are tender and puffy and your entire body throbs with persistent arousal. Tom’s eager with his affection, but you can feel the underlying pulse of fear coasting through his veins; you want so desperately to placate it: to let him know that he has nothing to worry about - that you are his now, and probably always will be. Tom’s not alone in his discomfort - you, too, feel jilted and unbalanced after running into a ghost from your past. You need Tom desperately, in more ways that one. You need him to look after you - to hold you, be firm with you, and show you your place within your relationship. You need him to be your dom, and you crave the release of submitting to him entirely - with your mind, body and heart.  

“You can do anything you want to me tonight,” you tell him. You’re standing at the foot of the bed, Tom sitting up against the headboard. His suit jacket lays off to the side, tie hanging loose around his neck and his top two buttons undone. You’ve made a mess of his hair, but he looks so fucking pretty with his chestnut curls all tousled and his lips bright pink and inflamed. 

“That’s funny,” Tom comments, eyes glinting as he tilts his head to the side, “I thought I could already do that.” 

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you find yourself biting your lower lip as your face fills up with heat.

“Do you want me to take off my dress?” Your fingers toy with the straps, which are all rolled up and uneven thanks to the hastiness in which you’d scrambled from the car.

“No.” Tom sits up, and he pats his thigh invitingly. “Take off your panties and come up here.”

You tease him a little bit, enjoying the way his gaze weighs down your figure. You’re slow to push your dress up to your waist, and you make a show of hooking your index fingers beneath the band to reveal lacy panties. You tug at the material until it falls to pool at your feet, and then you delicately step away from them and approach your boyfriend. You have a sudden thought that it’s as if you are the prey, walking straight into danger, but you welcome it: Tom’s looking at you, his expression hard but excited and his eyes swimming with darkness, and it makes your throat dry up. 

“Such a gorgeous girl, aren’t you?”

The material of Tom’s slacks feels coarse against your centre as you straddle his left thigh. His hands press at your waist, pushing your cunt straight against his leg, and the contact makes you moan softly.

“You look so pretty with your neck all marked up.” Tom presses a light kiss to one of your hickeys, and you gasp as a line of pain ripples out across your skin. “You look like you’re mine.”

“I am.”

“I know.” Tom strokes his hand through your hair, eyes watching you carefully. “I’m just going to remind you.”

“And how exactly do you plan on doing that?” You ask, your voice wavering.

He hums, the noise suspended with confidence. “You’ll see.” His hands dig into your waist a little firmer, and he starts to guide your movements. “Work yourself against my thigh, darling. Make a nice wet spot for me.”

His words make you moan, and you’re quick to comply. You recognise the dark glint in his eyes and the layers to his voice - he’s slipping away into his harder, more dominative side, just as you find yourself eager to oblige him. You grind yourself down over his thigh, and his trousers are rough against your flushed centre. The friction burns beautifully. A few moans slip past your lips, and your eyes squeeze shut as his hands press over you, digging into your waist, guiding you. Tom is very much in control, and as the seconds slip past, you give into it.

“Tell me how it feels,” he murmurs, rich voice drifting into your ears. You bite your lip, your hole clenching around nothing as you swivel your hips and feel the pressure to your hot bud.

“Feels really good,” you admit, voice a whimper. “Love it when you let me touch you.” 

Tom takes your chin between two fingers, looking at you with a hard stare. He pulls your face to him, his tongue licking a wide stripe over your lips. As you try to push forward for a kiss, he just moves away, a teasing smirk on his lips. “No,” he says softly, “You’ll take what I give you, and you won’t be greedy about it. I don’t want to have to punish you, babygirl.”

You nod quickly, the movement hurried and messy. It’s getting hard to think of anything other than the fact you’ve made his trousers slick with your arousal. The burn between your legs is gradually swelling to a crescendo.

“Sorry,” you whisper. Your fingers find purchase on his shoulder, and you find your forehead dropping down to rest there too as your breathing hitches.

“Are you close, darling?” He’s very soft and gentle, and it makes you whimper out a small noise of agreement. Tom chuckles, pulling at your hair as he brings your face back up, his hands bearing down on your hips to halt your movements. “Lie down for me, please.”

You scramble from his lap, your centre pulsing as it leaves his thigh. Your eyes catch on the way you’ve left a large, wet mark on his trousers, and you watch with wide eyes as Tom stands from the bed. He walks around to the foot of the mattress, his figure commanding your complete attention. 

“I’ve been thinking about what I’d like to do to you,” he says, speaking quietly. His nimble fingers work down the buttons of his shirt, popping them quickly. Once his shirt is discarded, Tom works on his slacks. As the metallic sounds of his belt clicking fill the air, he smirks at you. “Are you going to be good for me?”

“Yes,” you say immediately. You squeal as Tom grabs at your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed. He kneels on the floor, hauling you closer until your thighs are over his shoulders and his face is near your heat. Your dress scrunches up at your waist, and you whimper as his hands press your legs apart. “I’ll always be good for you.”

“Is that right?” Tom asks, index finger running lightly over the inside of one of your thighs. He looks up at you, eyes hooded and blown wide with lust.

“Yes.”

“Prove it to me,” he instructs. “If you think you’re about to cum, you need to tell me.” Tom’s gaze darkens. “If you disobey me, you won’t enjoy what happens.” With tender lips, he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, looking at you with a gentle smile. When he speaks again, his voice is lighter, “Is this okay, darling?”

You nod.

“Words.”

As two of Tom’s fingers spread your puffy outer lips, you stammer out a broken, “Yes, I understand.”

“Good girl.”

He dives in quickly, and the press of his warm tongue against your pulsing pussy makes you cry out. You’re already feeling hot and bothered from the time you spent rutting against the coarse material of his trousers, and the pressure soothes you. He’s too far away to touch, so you curl your hands into fists and pull at the silky bed linen, eyelids fluttering shut as his tongue caresses you, over and over.

Tom makes out sloppily with your cunt, two of his slender fingers pulling up to push into your heat. He fills you easily, taking the edge off your desire as his tongue flicks over your clit, unrelenting, hard. He’s eager for it, holding nothing back as he coaxes you quickly towards a high, moaning and grunting into your centre. The vibrations drive you mad, and your mind spins off as he holds you in place.

“S-Shit,” you stammer, back arching. As much as you don’t want to say it, Tom’s already pushing you towards climax. As he curls his slender digits up against you, his tips brush against your g-spot, and it has you seeing stars. “I’m gonna cum, Tom.”

All movements stop. Tom’s mouth pulls back from your cunt, and his fingers still inside you. Your walls clench around him, but he relaxes them, halting all stimulation of your sensitive pussy as you whimper.

“Good,” he coos. Your eyes seek him out, and you moan as you see his chin slick with your juices. “You taste divine, sweetheart.” His free hand strokes over your inner thigh, calming you with gentle circles and caresses. “We’ll do this a few more times, I think. I want you dripping onto the sheets. I want you to forget about everything apart from me, and how desperate you are for me.” His teeth nip at your thigh, and you squirm.

True to his word, Tom works you up, over and over again. Each time he brings you to the edge of a high, he pulls back at the last moment, leaving you teetering on the edge for a painful second before your climax goes ebbing away from your reach. The time it takes to build up to each edge narrows considerably with each completion, and you find yourself growing desperate for more. Your skin is hot and prickles, your forehead breaking into a sweat. The muscles in your legs ache from the exertion of almost spasming into climax, time and time again, and your throat hurts from your eager, desperate moans. He’s a demon, his deep brown eyes watching you closely, sharp ears picking up each noise and sound, and he seems intent on drawing this out for as long as possible.

“I think that’s enough,” Tom finally says. Your sigh of relief is so loud and pronounced that it makes him chuckle. “What, you didn’t like that?” His hand comes down over your inner thigh, slapping softly. As the pain ripples across your skin, you whimper. “Don’t lie to me, angel. I know you love it when I’ve got my head between your legs.” His large hands slip under your thighs, and he pushes you up the bed, slipping up over you. With his body suspended above you and a hand either side of your head, Tom raises his eyebrows. “Open,” he instructs.

What he does next makes your eyes roll back. You open your mouth immediately, and he chuckles darkly. One hand holds your jaw, and you watch as Tom purses his lips, eyes you intently, and then spits directly into your mouth. The taste of your cunt spreads out across your tongue, and your hole clenches around nothing as you moan loudly.

“Swallow,” he says. You close your mouth and do just that, and then you stick out your tongue for him to see. “Good,” he coos. Tom kisses you suddenly, the action hard as he sucks on your tongue. When he pulls back, he kisses your nose. “Pretty girl, aren’t you? My pretty girl.”

His lips skate all across your face, dusting you in warm kisses of reward. 

“I love you,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. The gratitude you feel towards him for knowing exactly what you need is boundless, consuming. 

“And I love you.” You share a tender moment of understanding as Tom brushes his hand over your face, and in the look you exchange, you know that he feels as you do: appreciation towards your partner, for reading you and obliging you. He hums softly, slipping away from you after a final kiss to pull off his boxers. “Take off your dress for me, love. Give me a show.”

You’re shaky on your feet, but you manage to stand in front of the bed. Tom sits up against the headboard, working his hand over his erect length as he watches you. You tease him, just like you know he enjoys, taking your time as you roll the sleeves down and unzip the back. The material goes tumbling to the floor, pooling at your feet, and then you’re entirely naked - wearing only his hickeys, and his spit between your legs. 

“Beautiful,” he says, eyes glinting. “You’re an angel, aren’t you?” When you shrug bashfully, he nods. “My angel. C’mere.” You move to him, but he stops you before you can reach for his cock. “I want you to lie down here and show me how you get off.”

“But I want--” 

He shuts you up with a hard stare. “Do you really want to finish that sentence?” When you’re quiet, he hums. You can’t stop staring at the way his hands slide over his length. Your mouth waters at the thought of letting your tongue wander over his leaking tip, collecting the beads of salty precum. “Do this for me, and then I’ll let you have what you want.”

You part your legs, your thighs aching. As you dip your hand between your legs, you whimper to feel your slick mixed with Tom’s spit. Your skin is soaked, and as you nimbly press two fingers into your hole, you find it looser, already stretched from Tom’s exploration earlier. You can feel his eyes on you, watching your hand move as you slowly fuck yourself with your fingers, getting pleasure from the knuckle of your thumb as it brushes up against your clit.

As you begin to whimper, Tom swoops in with his final lesson of the evening. He reaches down, wrapping his hand around yours, guiding your movements. He sets the pace and the angle, speeding up your thrusts. The sound of your wetness sloshing around makes you cry out loudly as he edges you perfectly, like he knows your body better than you. 

“You see this,” he mutters, voice husky. “I give you pleasure. It doesn’t matter if it’s my tongue in your cunt, or my fingers, or my cock. This cunt?” He curls your fingers, and they brush up against your g-spot, making you cry out. “This cunt is mine. You are mine.”

You almost lose it right there, the deep husky tones of his dominant voice sending you spinning, but then Tom pulls away. As your walls flutter weakly around nothing, he pats at your hip.

“Hands and knees, darling.”

Your arms shake as you roll over, adopting the position. Again, Tom stands at the foot of the bed, pulling you back until you’re spread open for him. You feel his cock, dragging through your slick folds, teasing your tender clit until your hips jerk forwards. Your bud aches almost painfully, your body pulled tight with an overwhelming need to climax.

“Please,” you beg desperately, dropping your head between your arms. “Please, please.”

Tom’s hand smooths over the curve of your ass, silver ring biting coolly against you, “Does my darling want to feel my cock?” 

“Yes, please.”

“Hmm.” Easily, he slips the tip of his cock past your entrance. “I suppose you deserve it,” he teases. “Been such a good little slut for me, haven’t you?”

When Tom finally fucks into you, the moan you release is almost pornographic. He’s been teasing you, over and over, drawing you close to orgasm only to jerk it away from you each time, but now that he’s got his length buried up to the hilt inside you, you know it’s been worth it. Nothing compares to the relief you feel as you realise you’ll be allowed to finish soon, your walls squeezing his cock. 

The pace is punishing, and everything blurs together. His hands on your hips, holding you in place, pulling you back rhythmically to meet with his thrusts. As his slick cock pounds into you over and over, his flushed tip nudges against your g-spot. The stimulation makes your eyes tear up, and a few hot tears skate across your cheeks as you whimper and cling to the sheets.

“Fuck, princess, you’re fucking perfect for me, aren’t you?” A hand falls over your bum, and you moan. “So tight and warm. Feels so snug around me, lovie. So perfect.” Tom’s voice comes out firm, but it wavers, and you can imagine the grimace of pleasure on his face. “Always take me so well.” His hand moves to the top of your back, and he pushes you into the bed. Your face buries into the sheets as the angle adjusts, and you gasp loudly as the adjustment means he can rail you harder. 

“S-Shit,” you moan. “Love your cock, Tommy. Pl-Please.”

“What do you need?”

You whimper, the power of his thrusts fucking you further into the mattress. “W’nna cum.”

“You can play with your clit then.”

Tears fly down your cheeks, and it feels overwhelming as you nudge a hand between your legs to fondle your bud. Tom’s hands hold your hips, keeping you nice and open for him, and you’re glad for the heavy pressure on your skin. It keeps you anchored down.

“Are you close?” He asks, grunting heavily as he feels your walls squeeze him.

“Yes.”

“I think you deserve to cum, don’t you?” He pauses briefly, cursing lowly, pace faltering. “Let go, darling. Let me feel you squeezing me. I want to feel what I do to you.”

The action of his deep, fast thrusts mixes with your fingers on your clit, and you cum with a  loud, quivering scream. Tom holds you down, fucking into you as you spasm and writhe in the sheets, and after a few, mind-numbing moments of pleasure, you feel him follow you with a grunt. His hot speed paints your walls, his noises of heady enjoyment mixing with yours, and it just prolongs your climax.

When you calm down, Tom carefully pulls out from you. You whimper at the loss, feeling a little out of it as he turns you over, pushes you up into the centre of the bed and pulls you on top of him. Your head settles in the crook of his neck, his hands palming over your back as he kisses the top of your head, over and over again.

“So good for me,” he mumbles. Your legs tangle together. You can feel his cum spilling from your hole, dripping down onto him, but he doesn’t seem to care. “My best girl. I love you so much.” 

You hum quietly, rubbing your hand over the top of his arm as you whimper. “Love you too,” you manage, voice hoarse. 

Tom’s hands cup your face, and he gently coaxes you up until he can meet with your eyes. His fingers brush away the teary residue from your cheeks, and he kisses you softly.

“Mine,” he mumbles against you, smiling into your lips as you hum in agreement. One of your hands folds into his curls, and you feel your heart stirring contentedly in your chest.

“Yours.”

---------

lol. hope you enjoyyyyed :) 

I’m intending to do some mob!Tom blurbs next week for mob!Monday, so if you have any concepts you’d like to see, please send them to my ask box!

ask box is open for your thoughts!! I’m dying to know what you think of this... 👀

masterlist linked in bio!

[alyssadeliv]

The Forgotten One

First      Previous

Chapter 11

She always knew she had a Father. When she was younger she used to ask her mother about him. She mostly told her half-truths. She knew his real name, and about his nightly activities. About his time with the League, and how he adopted some orphans along the way. She heard all about him. From Mother, Grandfather, and sometimes other members passing by. From a young age, she had him pictured in her mind. 

But now, sitting in front of him, in his office, she felt silly for ever trying to imagine what he would be like. He didn’t compare to whatever her young mind had conjured at the time.  He was tall, and he had a face that she could only explain as enigmatic. He wore a mask, that she knew. After years of perfection one of her own, she could only imagine what he had been thought to dissociate himself from the people around him. 

The office was simple, but at the same time imposing. It had a desk, behind it was her father paying attention to every word that came out of her mouth, with a large bookcase by her left. All the wood was dark, giving the room a more serious look. To her right, the wall was entirely covered with windows, with its drapes open showing the beautiful big garden outside the Manor. Behind her father, there is a painting hanging. A family portrait. She recognizes everyone in the painting with ease. Bruce is seated, with Damian in his lap, while Jason, Richard, and Timothy are standing behind Father’s chair. It’s an exquisite piece and even though they all are wearing suits, it makes the whole room look homey.

“Why didn’t you come here, after you healed from the attack?” They had been talking for the past hour. Marianne spent most of that time telling him the circumstances of her upbringing.

“I couldn't. My Master thought it would be better to stay longer.” She explains while playing nervously with the hem of the shirt Damian had lent her this morning. He could feel the anxiety coming out of her but was impressed that she kept herself strong and didn’t avoid eye contact. “So we continued with my training, but after some time we discovered a destructive energy that could only come from someone misusing a Miraculous. So it was decided that we would stay and assess the situation.”

“And this person was the fashion designer you killed this week? Gabriel Agreste?” He had a disapproving face, typical of parents disciplining their children.

“Damian made me aware of your no-kill policy, but since this was an Order business I believe you do not have the power to dictate how I dealt with it. I respect that this is your city, but believe or not I was lenient in his punishment. If it was up to me, death wouldn’t have been enough to compensate for all the pain he caused to the citizens of Paris, but I must allow the Gods to decide his punishment, so death it was.” Her speech allows him time to think about the situation. By the end of it he agreed, it wasn’t his business.

“What happened is in the past. I need to know if I can trust you not to endanger the people of Gotham. Who are you loyal to?” 

“I am loyal to myself. And Damian. Trust has to be earned so it is okay that I do not have yours. But trust this: I love Damian, and would rather die than hurt him” Bruce analises her for some time, trying to find any hint of dishonesty on her, but just like his youngest when cornered, her emotions were transparent in her face.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that you remind me so much of… well your mother” He confessed with a nostalgic expression. “When she first brought Damian to live with me I was so shocked. I must admit that my reaction wasn’t the best. He was so grown, that it was hard to get to know him. With the others it was easier, they-”

“They weren’t your blood” She supplies. He looks a little relieved that she understood what he was trying to explain. “But you loved them all the same.”

“I did this once, it was a terrible job. Just know that I’ll be trying my best to- well, accommodate you into this family.” 

“That’s all I ask for.” She replies with a small smile. 

Marianne looked so much like his mother at a young age. He remembers spending hours looking through family album photos when he was younger. Sure he could see traces of Talia in her, but the blue eyes and black hair were definitely a Wayne trait. It scared him. Did he have any other children out there that he knew nothing about? He lost so many years from his children's lives, it pained him to think about what type of childhood they received. Sure, both Damian and Marianne didn’t hide their upbringing, but anyone could see that there were things they weren’t comfortable sharing. He knew from his own time at the League that it wasn’t easy.

“When did you meet Jason?” He had heard from Dick just this morning that apparently there was something that Jason hadn’t told them about his time in the League.

“Mother ordered me to train him after he was resurrected, because of my powers I was the best candidate to help him control the madness inside of him.” She explains, but Bruce could see the faint blush on her cheeks. 

“And you two…” He trailed off, not knowing how to phrase his question.

“Yes. And please let’s leave it at that.” She’s blushing more than she ever did before. The fact she’s talking about her love life in front of her newly acquired father makes the whole situation hilarious, and if she wasn't so mortified she would have laughed. 

“There is one more thing I would like to discuss with you” Marianne begins, uncertain of how the man in front of her would react to her request. “If it was alright with you, could I please have a hug?”

Whatever Bruce thought she was going to ask, it definitely wasn't this. So he stays there in shock, totally still for more time than he realizes. Enough for doubt to appear in the girl in front of him. His daughter. His blood daughter. He had some experience with Cassandra, but he still wasn’t sure he hadn’t totally fucked up with her yet, so this whole new daughter scene was hard on him.

Before she can flee the room in shame of her request, Father rises from his chair with grace, hiding his anxiety behind his perfected mask. In two strikes he is at her side.

The hug feels nice. Not that she would ever confess but the physical touch was something she always missed. The only person that had no trouble with being smothered with her love was Damian, and then later Jason. So, this hug from her father was definitely something she needed.

When they are done Bruce takes one more lounging look at her before dismissing her. He truly needed some time to think of all that had happened in the last few days. It had been almost 4 days since the reveal of the parentage of the girls, so he still had a lot to process. 

So now sitting with a glass of bourbon in one hand, and his cellphone in the other. He did the only thing he could think of. He called Seline.

“Hey… It’s me.”

Hello again everyone! A special thank you to everyone that has been supporting this story! I wasn't sure if I indeed wanted to write a PART 2 to this story, but after all your comments I decided to do so. I hope you all like this chapter, it's shorter than usual, but I still need to figure some stuff about the story, so please bear with me! Let me know what yall think of it!

Next

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[kojinnie]

AOT Characters’ Modern Jobs Headcanon; The Vets Edition!

The jobs that The Vets would have in modern!au, their workplace antics and their back story. There might be some inaccuracies when describing the job as obviously I don’t work at these industries to know its intricacies. Most of the jobs are office jobs. Enjoyyyy!

My Masterlist .::. Pt. II: Zeke Yeager’s Modern Jobs Headcanon   

Most recent work: Dream Me Home (Before Shiganshina) | reader x erwin smith

A/N: I really need to finish a presentation deck due tonight for an early morning meeting tomorrow but of course, this comes first hahaha 

erwin!

A/N: Basically lawyer!erwin is the way to go, innit?

He's in his 40s, so he may have a settled career

He came from a white-collar, middle-class family. So he wasn’t silverspoon-fed, but his parents had enough money to put him through good school

Got a scholarship to go to one of the nation’s finest law schools

Kept it lowkey in college’s social circle, graduated with summa cum laude, developed a strong academic relation with his professor, and got recommended for an internship at top law firm at the capital city

Starting his career as a corporate lawyer, but then built his expertise as white-collar crime attorney

In his early 30s, he represented a union suing against conglomerate corporation in a big case that had national coverage, from then on he began to know his calling

Expanding his portfolio and became well-known for defending workers, consumers and civilians against corporate fraud scheme

Currently doing a lot of pro-bono cases for deprived victims of big corporate fraud. You would see him frequently gracing your local newspaper we love us some socialist king

On the side, he often writes for law journal and fills in as guest professor at local universities for summer courses

Established his own law firm with some of his partners, specializing in white collar crime and labor & employment law

He’s damn accomplished, but never really had any time for self-indulgence. Even after he becomes a household name in the country, with tens of attorneys working under him, his employees would still see him working on New Year’s Eve

He was always attentive to his employees, though. Although he has a very strict, borderline no-life work ethics, he never forces his employees to follow his habit, in fact he despises when his employees works on holidays and can be seen blaming himself for it a bit of a hypocrite but thats ok

He still takes metro to work. He prefers a very lowkey, ordinary lifestyle because he fears if he shows any knack for indulgence, he will be susceptible to gratification from potential enemies or crooked politicians

Definitely a sight to see at the workplace, for he's tall and always oozes a sense of authority in the way he speaks and carries himself generally

His emotional intelligence is top-notch, you would never meet someone who is able to be very objective and calculating, while being kind and compassionate at the same time

His fellow attorneys put a lot for respect for him, and hundreds of applicants come to his considerably small firm every week, because a lot of aspiring attorney find him inspiring to work with

He wasn’t oblivious to his shiny reputation, but he’s trying his hardest to not let the compliments get to his head. Sometimes he doesn’t give himself enough credit for it

Was approached by one of the political party’s committee to run for local senate, but turned it down

basically he’s perfect if you like a man who’s never home for christmas

Hange!

A/N: Ok ok, I really wanna see Paleontologist!Hange because it has always been my fave dream job, but I want Hange to be out and about with people so here it is

Hange is the type to be incredibly good at one thing, that she will dedicate her whole life for that pursuit, but will be awfully oblivious to a whole lot of things (not intentional of course, they just have a very limited attention span) (they wouldn’t know who kanye west is or what tiktok is)

Like Erwin, they came from a middle-class family. While Erwin’s parents might have been teachers, accountants or other common profession, Hange came from a family of academician and researchers

Hange studied Human Geography at uni, but later found passion specifically in its relation to industrialization and urban development

Hange aims to advocate for a better living condition for workforce, and nearby inhabitants of industrialized city detroit would be a beautiful city if only they let hange designed it

Hange is a professor at university, where they also led a non-profit research think-thank that also serves as pressure group for better government policy.

The university that Hange teaches in, is also the uni where Erwin teaches in summer. They’re close-knitted colleagues as they share similar passion. Erwin relies on Hange a lot for some intellectual insights to help his cases  

Hange is relentless in their cause, you may find Hange everywhere! From street protest to a hearing in the government court. They are passionate and will do anything for the cause they believe in

Hange was once hired by the government as an independent consultant for a new housing project, but left because they grew to be frustrated by the government’s bureaucracy and their outward reluctance to follow Hange's recommendation

Hange spends a lot of time overseas, consulting and advocating development in newly industrialized countries

On Hange’s birthday, her fellow researchers surprised them with a ‘pampering day’ where they took them to an optometrist because Hange had been complaining about their eyesight for a YEAR that gave them a lot of migraines, but was always either too busy or too lazy to go

Hange never really considers themselves as working, because they enjoy their job very much. Hange likes to spend months observing a community, talking to people for hours, and trying their best in understanding their problem

Out of so many great qualities that Hange has as a researcher that meets different set of people everyday, prejudice or preconceived judgment is completely absent in Hange’s demeanor and perspective

Hange doesn’t get a lot of free-time, even if they do, they’d wander around the city to do a little observation. But when the weather’s bad and they’re stuck at home with their pet lizard, they would logged into Quora to answer random internet questions

They’re an avid writer for National Geographic, and one time Hange won a pitch to make a documentary about an industrial city project they were working on

After the docu-series got broadcasted, Hange gained a small but passionate and loyal fans on the internet. You could even find a subreddit dedicated for Hange’s works

for real I want to be Hange. I want to have that kind of passion in life

levi!

A/N: I spent a lot of times thinking about Levi’s job in modern!au. Because here’s the thing, either we adopt his unfortunate childhood into its modern!au equivalent, or let’s just recreate his whole upbringing. But I think his personality stems from a specific things he experienced during childhood, so let’s not dismiss that.

Levi came from a struggling working class family. I reckon his parents might have had worked multiple jobs to sustain their living expense. Unfortunately they both passed away when Levi was very little, and left little to no inheritance

Levi’s parents were not close to their extended family, so when they died, Levi was admitted to the system and had to brace several foster families who didn’t really pay attention to him

Little Levi had come to realize that life’s all about survival and so he had been able to fend on for himself since very young age, he never asked for things

His uncle, Kenny, finally won custody over Levi when he was in elementary. Kenny made money from small-scale racketeering here and there. Levi never asked what he did for living, as long as he got food to eat and tuition paid off

Kenny was emotionally absent, but he loved spending time with the oddly quiet little child, teaching him a lot of crafts, from carpentering to how to flay pig’s skin

Levi didn’t really care about getting into college, and thought that he’d probably end up working for his uncle, so he put his bare minimum throughout school, although he was really good with numbers, especially in math, accounting and finance

One time in high school, Levi’s teacher asked him to sign up for the olympiad team, Levi turned it down because he thought that was a rich kid thing

He didn’t even apply for college, and worked odd jobs after high school. Probably working as cashiers or assistant to retail shop’s owner for couple of years, enough for him to afford a cheap studio apartment on his own

One of his bosses came to acknowledge Levi’s talent, and trusted him to handle the company’s accounting

By sheer luck, the company hit it big, and Levi found himself running the day-to-day accounting of mid-sized business with over 300 employees

He made good money already without a college degree, but with a new-found confidence Levi applied for uni, where he chose to study accounting (of course)

Although he was confident with his skills, he understood he needed to widen his horizon and network -- thus uni

Levi was one of the oldest members of his cohort in uni, but graduated with highest distinction

After graduating, with his skills and experience, it wasn’t hard for Levi to score a job at top accounting firm

There, he discovered an interest for forensic accounting, where through audits, analysis and investigation, he basically finds out if a company is doing fraud and embezzlement or not

This is where he came to know and get acquainted with Erwin and Hange (yippie they’re together again)

The firm he works for was assigned to investigate the finances of a troublesome company that had been sued by its workers for a jeopardizing working condition. Erwin was on the case, and Levi helped him with evidences for legal proceeding.

By chance, Erwin introduced Levi to Hange. At first, Levi would find Hange annoying and overtly energized, but after learning the things they have done, Levi grew to appreciate Hange’s passion (and secretly wants to have more of his positive outlook)

Levi is fucking good his job. In short amount of time, he could get a really ideal position in the office. He was almost foolproof, finding even the tiniest bit of discrepancy in his audit. He’d get assigned to the big league case/project.

Although really good at his job, he’s not a social person, especially in his office. He couldn’t understand the lavish lifestyle that finance and banking people often lead. He will only show up to office party if it is really necessary for him to show up (usually to receive some kind of informal awards for, again, being so fucking good) 

He leads a no-bullshit attitude at the office, largely because of his background. He is a self-made man, and is not easy to impress by some young executives from posh school that talk bigger than they can chew

His cold, seemingly dismissive attitude gained him a reputation of being scary, when actually he is very considerate

One of the things he enjoys doing is to actually teach, he really likes when a new kid at the office come to him with none of that pretentious, big talk, and really asks for his guidance. He would love to teach you a thing or two

He would frequently check on his mentee, just to keep up with their development

And he doesn’t take credit too. When his mentee makes a milestone, he believes it’s 100% your work

If you’re his mentee, he probably doesn’t give a crap about your personal life, so don’t expect him to make small talk about that (and don’t ask him about his personal life either). But he really cares about your skill and career development

Same with Erwin, he leads a very ordinary lifestyle. He doesn’t go out often and would rather reading detective novel with his cat on the couch

He likes to spend Sunday at Uncle Kenny’s house, because he finds himself worried about the old man very often. They became close as Levi grew

Overall, Levi is a really kind and caring person if you know how not to push his button

[dreamsmp-au-ideas]

Guess it’s good brother dream brain rot time now that we’ve pretty much canonized phoenix Tommy in it. I must now do my proper due diligence. Adding in my two cents and furthering the spread of my brand, phoenix Tommy.

When Tommy is a little tiny thing Phil does everything in his power to try and keep it quiet that Tommy isn’t a regular avian hybrid, but a phoenix. Things like phoenixes, dragons, or other mythical avians are extremely rare mutations that happen seemingly without any reason but will often reoccur within the same bloodline more often than not. 

Phil is something mythical. Maybe a dragon, maybe a griffin, maybe even something a little less well known like the zhenniao, yatagarasu, or alicanto. Either way he’s something mythical, it runs in his blood. It ends up running in Tommy’s too. Phil is one of the few mythological avians who doesn’t hide his features because people are usually far too fearful of both him an Technoblade to do anything. Unfortunately, what people weren’t scared of was the idea of trying to kidnap a child.

There were attempts to steal away Wilbur when he was little. Before he started presenting and turned out to be just your regular avian. There were fewer attempts when it came to Tommy. There was unfortunately one attempt that ended up being successful, he was stolen from the cradle and subsequently lost in a skirmish when Techno and Phil caught up to the man who took Tommy. 

Dream found baby Tommy floating along in the river, figured the kid was probably abandoned since he’d heard of orphaned children being floated down rivers and never seen again, and subsequently took Tommy in. 

Everything was fine and okay for a couple years and Tommy was quickly accepted into the family. Unfortunately when Tommy turned five his traits started to come in and he nearly burned down the house. The family didn’t want to abandon Tommy but realizing he was a mythical avian was a problem to say the least. So Dream, having recently become an active admin, gathered up his things and left with Tommy. He didn’t blame his family for their worries but he wasn’t going to abandon his little brother either. Not when he’d found Tommy. Not when he’d been the one to practically raise Tommy. 

Dream and Tommy were very distrustful of strangers still for obvious reasons and Tommy was pretty much stuck wearing the mask in order to protect himself, but Dream did what he could. Dream didn’t originally wear a mask actually, he decided they should match as a way to make Tommy feel bad for always having to wear the mask when he didn’t want to. He found private places that were safe where Tommy could practice flying and stretch his wings since Dream was super concerned early on about them atrophying and never being able to properly carry Tommy. Sure, it was too dangerous for Tommy to actively go flying often, but Dream didn’t want to accidentally ruin Tommy’s chances of ever being able to fly. The most important facet of their relationship is that he wanted to protect Tommy but never cage him.

When Dream first took control of the Dream SMP it was originally so he could make it a safe space for himself and Tommy, only allowing his few friends who knew about Tommy and what he was to join, like Sapnap and George who have a super good relationship with both Dream and Tommy in this au. Dream is still super jumpy and protective of Tommy and Tommy trusts people a lot less, but Tommy also acts as something of an ambassador in Dream’s interpersonal relationships, keeping Dream from becoming too jumpy and letting them decay. Similarly Dream taught Tommy to be a lot more cautious of strangers and this Tommy is a heck of a lot stronger having grown up with a pvp legend like Dream. 

When other people started joining it was still a controlled enough environment that while cautious, Dream let Tommy “play” for lack of a better word. Three canon lives is a rule everywhere that everyone has to abide by, regardless of what admin you’re living under. The admin doesn’t get to decide what’s canon either, it’s something seemingly up to chance. Or maybe the gods. No one knows what makes being pushed off a cliff by your mortal enemy so different from falling off one by your own stupidity, but some people theorize it’s the intention of the action.

Obviously this isn’t a rule that applies to Tommy. They both know it, him and Dream. And here’s the thing. Some legends say that there are no draw backs to a phoenix dying. Others say that too many deaths too quickly will slowly harm the phoenix. Both of these are false. A phoenix needs deaths. Canon deaths. The same way that kids needs to be tossed in the air and spun around to help develop their brains as really little kids, a phoenix needs to die repeatedly for their brains and bodies to properly mature fully and in a healthy manner. It’s an actual necessity for them to die, in fact, too few canon deaths run the risk of a phoenix getting sick and dying permanently. 

So when new people join the Dream SMP, Dream doesn’t hesitate letting Tommy side against him. It’s an unspoken rule between them. Good brother Dream goes pretty similar to canon up until Pogtopia actually. Dream doesn’t hesitate to take those two canon lives and Tommy intentionally misses during their duel. He ends up with way more canon deaths than just two, and he keeps secret what they are from the rest of the SMP, saying the two times Dream killed him were the canon two. Each time he dies his magic gets a little stronger, his feathers taking on an even glossier coat. He still gets pissed at Eret after the betrayal because everyone else doesn’t have unlimited canon lives, but Dream shushes and reassures him that if anyone does die permanently then he’ll help Tommy bring them back.

Phoenixes are creatures tied to the frayed and broken bridge that crosses life and death. Just like they can’t die and have dominance over flames, another power of the phoenixes is that they’re uniquely skilled when it comes to necromancy. Real necromancy. Not the human equivalent that brings back soulless husks with a tendency for destruction and malevolence. A phoenix is the only creature that can bring a soul back from the dead in tact. Tommy knows this by merit of instinct, and did it only once before for the sake of Dream. Regular people know this by merit of books like the one Schlatt tries to trade Dream.

So Dream and Tommy mostly put on an act while the war is happening but then act all buddy buddy and like actual brothers off the battle fields which confuses everyone (besides the already aware George and Sapnap) and mildly upsets Wilbur, but everyone just kinda gets used to it.

Until Pogtopia. Because we need some kind of conflict I’m giving Schlatt a very special role. Schlatt was a hybrid who got captured by poachers as a child and sold into the hybrid slave trade. He was one of the lucky few who turned the tables and managed to earn his freedom, ultimately turning towards being a poacher himself. Schlatt comes to L'manberg and becomes president with the intention of selling every hybrid in the country, in the Dream SMP as a whole, to his traders. The reason he chose the Dream SMP specifically? Well, wouldn’t you know it, he’s heard rumors that apparently there’s a phoenix hiding around somewhere. Not to mention the Dream SMP is absolutely loaded with hybrids because of Dream’s rather public policy about hybrid tolerance (he isn’t a hybrid, but he knows the affect being a hybrid has had on Sapnap and he still fears for Tommy so he tries to make somewhere that maybe one day Tommy can be open about what he is.)

Schlatt can’t immediately tell it’s Tommy who’s the phoenix because Tommy himself is an even rarer variation of phoenix called a soul flame phoenix, which is why his eyes and wings are a soul fire blue. Schlatt came in expecting crimson and our boy is out here with wings that look like the place where the sky meets the sea. Schlatt even dismisses Tommy initially and starts investigating some of the people who look human or avians with orange and yellow feathers. This is also why Phil can’t immediately recognize Tommy when he joins the SMP. While he can hide them with magic, Tommy usually has his wings on display since the Dream SMP is designed to be a safe space for hybrids. This Dream doesn’t have a ban on flying (he thought about it, maybe setting aside specific areas where winged hybrids could exercise, but it was quickly scrapped via Tommy repeatedly throwing himself off cliffs and then remembering he wasn’t supposed to be flying, immediately letting himself drop and die. Some of those ‘accidents’ were even canon and Dream just gave up on the rule.)

For this AU, I imagine that Dream would be a bit more in tune with people and empathetic so he’d probably call in Techno and Phil for help when he sees Wilbur starting to take a dive. Both out of worry for his own younger brother who’s sticking by Wilbur and consideration for the fact Wilbur himself took something of an older brother role. Sure he was a little jealous, but he understand well enough that everyone who meets Tommy either falls into one of two categories. They hate the kid and want him dead or they want to be his older sibling who’d burn down the world if he asked them to. George and Sapnap can both attest to the fact there are only two types of people in this world when it comes to Tommy and people usually start as the first before slowly becoming the second. 

So Techno and Phil show up early which is really good because Schlatt finally reveals his true intentions and neither Techno nor Phil are very chill with them. I dunno how the reveal will go between them and Tommy yet. I don’t even know for Good Brother Dream if we’re having Techno be a family friend or older brother so hard to say.

Anyway, I think that’d probably be where the main plot kinda starts to kick off so I’ll stop there for now. If I go for too much longer I’ll just end up wanting to write it…

[ebficnotes]

Black soul lore is a f*cking mess.

https://www.reddit.com/r/teslore/comments/lfih39/written_in_uncertainty_asks_who_is_mannimarco/

One thing I never see get mentioned is that the Mannimarco in ESO cannot be the same person as the Mannimarco in Oblivion or the King of Worms in Daggerfall.This is simply because ESO's guild memo on soul trapping mentions that Mannimarco's minions had knowledge of a soul trap spell that could trap black souls in white gems, and details Vanus Galerion's dumb plan to make the world forget that spell by creating a new soul trap spell that could only trap white souls in white gems.And the whole plot of the Mage's Guild in Oblivion is about how Mannimarco and the Worm Moon are working together to bypass Arkay's divine intervention in order to create Black Soul Gems, which can catch black souls even using Galerion's version of the soul trap spell.But, like, if either Daggerfall Manni or Oblivion Manni were the same person as ESO Manni, why would they bother to invent black soul gems at all?? Why wouldn't they just teach their followers the Soul Trap spell that works on black souls, a spell that the ESO Mannimarco canonically knows? Then your followers could just use white soul gems to trap and manipulate black souls. Isn't that easier than ascending to godhood to eclipse Arkay so your followers can do a spoopy ritual to convert regular soul gems into black ones?Ergo the only rational explanation: ESO Manni is not the same as the other two. Further complicating the "Who is Mannimarco?" question. (I mean I guess there's one other rational explanation: that this is a colossal plot hole and fuck-up on behalf of the lore-writers, but that explanation isn't really as fun as tinfoil theories about multiple Mannimarcos)I guess the answer to the "Who is Mannimarco?" question is that he isn't a person, he's an identity, periodically adopted by different necromancers all throughout history. And I suppose the concept of Mantling plugs into this idea somehow, since it's TES lore and all.

The assertion that all souls and gems are the same and that it is solely the power of the soul itself, the size of the gem, and the type of spell that matters, really does completely overwrite the purpose of black gems even existing, even with Vastarie's note on the matter.

If a human can be trapped in a grand gem with the right spell, then black gems serve exactly no purpose. And the soul gems in ESO that we trap everyone with are technically grand gems, despite them not being the big spiky types you see in Skyrim (but are interestingly enough, similar to Oblivion's grand gems.)

https://elderscrolls.fandom.com/wiki/Grand_Soul_Gem_(Oblivion)

https://elderscrolls.fandom.com/wiki/Grand_Soul_Gem_(Skyrim)

And yet in both skyrim and oblivion you must use a black soul gem to capture npcs. This might make sense for oblivion, where the mages guild's strictures reign supreme, but not in skyirm, where it's stated by Phinis Gestor that those policies were never a thing to begin with, and so no neutered soul trap spell would have been taught period. And even in oblivion, you use the same damn spell to do both. How hard would it have been to put a "forbidden soul trap" tome in Mannimarco's lair to complement his shiny new black gems?

And what's worse is gameplay-wise, black gems are not even recognizably better than grand ones. Black gems are actually heavier in Skyrim even, so technically they are worse. It would have been nothing for the devs to give black gems a few extra points of oomph just to demonstrate their raw soul superiority without breaking game balance, but they don’t. Literally the only thing they have going for them is their ability to capture npcs that can talk, which even if you have zero moral qualms about it, isn't even a real benefit without cheats, given how rare the black gems are.

I repeat: the designation of NPC vs Creature is the only demonstratable difference between souls that work with grand gems and black gem-only ones.

Yeah yeah game mechanics, but even without the in-game experience, why the fuck would our supposedly devious and calculating worm guy go through all that trouble for nothing, given that in (new) lore he could just use his own ungimped soul trap and a regular old grand gem to torture the normies all he wants, as stated above?

Some Ideas:

1. Black gems are only special because they are god-keyed. The use of one is meant as an offering to your daedra/deity of choice, and are not generally seen outside of cults for this very reason. Oblivion Mannimarco's altar is meant to make offering-stones for his own faithful, not to replace grand gems as a wholesale thing. The fact that you can enchant with them also is either because the mechanics of offering are similar and we are just stealing it, or because he allows it, similar to how real life religions who use animal sacrifice still eat the animal they dedicate. This doesn’t actually explain anything, but it sounds cool.

2. Vanus in his guild note has no idea what the fuck he is talking about regarding who fits into what gem, and his getting laughed out of his own guild for positing such nonsense is one of the low points of his career. Which is especially sad because in another life he was a pioneer in the field of enchantment and thus presumably soul-study.**

3. The gems we use in eso are not normal grand gems like everyone thinks, but are actually a new black-like gem that is both popular and common due to Mannimarco's doings, but because of later Mages guild shenanigans, is eventually lost to everyone but the worm cult, which is why they can trap anything, up to and including Arkay's favorite races, as what seemed to be implied as their true purpose in Oblivion (via reddit anyway). This doesn’t explain why they look different in oblivion and skyrim, but whatever.***

4. Vanus's insistence on classifying souls into who is and is not acceptable to kill/soul trap is the catalyst for future powerful guild mages to literally god-bend the world to it's own take on morality, which by the time of Daggerfall, makes even certain clearly people-races/beings like orcs not actually count as people anymore. Ie, it's not Arkay's fault orcs in Daggerfall are considered white souls and thus can be trapped with a non-special gem/neutered soul trap spell, it's the mages guild's.

5. There *is* something about the "black-souled" races/peoples that doesn’t make black gems completely stupid and redundant, its just soul research is so damn stigmatized that no one knows what that something really is. So every inconsistency we see is actually part of some greater whole that we just can't see through to yet because of all the bullshit. aka idfk.

**Something even sillier about Vanus's note: the old soul system in ESO apparently was based on player level, with petty gems only being able to revive low level players and the like, which makes good sense with the idea of soul size being the only real thing, like they corrected earlier game inconsistency or something. But then Vanus goes and says that smaller souls are not sapient/sentient and larger ones are, which is just not true even in ESO's world. Does this mean he wouldn’t consider low-level us as a real person? O.O

I however have never played eso pre-tamriel unlimited and hardly play even now, so if there are any nuances of soul collection in that game that I missed here, please let me know, yeah?

***I forgot, dremora in both Skyrim and Oblivion are black soul gem only too, so if it is Arkay's fault, why does he care about dremora?

My head...

https://www.reddit.com/r/teslore/comments/2cowhz/eso_guild_memo_on_soul_trapping_describes_the/

https://www.reddit.com/r/teslore/comments/lfih39/written_in_uncertainty_asks_who_is_mannimarco/

https://www.reddit.com/r/teslore/comments/lfih39/written_in_uncertainty_asks_who_is_mannimarco/gmr3c28/

[quickspinner]

Triple Threat

Here it is, the 500 followers special, posted hot off the presses as promised because not only did I hit 500 followers before the poll even closed, I’m now at 520! My mind is blown. Thank you all for sticking around this little corner of the lukanette trash heap and especially for all your replies/comments/reblogs, I covet every single one. 

So you guys voted and you wanted to see Multimouse flirting with Viperion, and Marinette flirting with Viperion was a very close runner up, so I decided to do both, and I threw in a little Viperbug flirting for you just because I love you. So I hope you enjoy, and extra love to @livrever for giving me a sanity check when I needed it because y’all, I love you so much I wrote an akuma for you and even though most of the battle happened off-screen I still wasn’t sure whether the whole thing would hang together or not. 

I hate long author’s notes and this one is already wordy, but I just want to say again, thank you for being here and I appreciate all 520 of you that are here now and everyone who stumbles on this in the future. 

“Stupid Chat,” Ladybug muttered to herself between swings. “Stupid, overprotective Chat, making everything more complicated than it needs to be because of this stupid identity bullshit again and why am I still keeping up this ridiculousness now that Master Fu’s gone I have no idea…” 

She ought to be grateful, she knew. Later, she would be touched by Chat’s affection and protectiveness towards her civilian self, but right now it was just a pain in her red-and-black spotted ass. Fortunately, the akuma knew her name but not much else about her, which meant Chat was able to fool it into following him on a wild goose chase to buy Ladybug time to get help that they didn’t actually need but whatever. 

But it was fine. This was fine. She had a plan. In the three years that she’d been Ladybug she’d gotten very good at thinking on her feet. She tried not to call on Viperion too often, because it seemed like a bad idea to muck around with time too much, but the fact was, his power was both incredibly useful and incredibly reassuring for her. 

And, either because Luka was older or perhaps because he was simply more mature than the rest of the team, he’d been the first to push his powers past his original time limit, and he still had the longest time limit on the team, though he wasn’t anywhere near the unlimited time that supposedly came with being “an adult.” Marinette had questioned Tikki about that, whether it was a question of physical maturity or mental maturity or both, but it turned out that questioning a being as old as Tikki about the minutiae of human growth was...frustrating. Tikki’s concept of time was colored by her nearly-eternal perspective, and the markers of adulthood changed and shifted over the centuries.

In any case, second chances were all too scarce in her life and it was only the knowledge that all magic had a price and the fear that there had to be a catch somewhere kept her from calling on it more frequently. 

Seeing the Captain and Juleka both on deck, Ladybug crouched on the bank and squinted. It looked like Juleka and Luka’s room was empty, so she should be able to just slip through the porthole if she timed it right.  

Well, regardless of whatever method the Miraculous used to measure adultness, Marinette thought as she made her way through the porthole with some Miraculous-aided acrobatics, Luka had matured in the three years they’d known each other both mentally, and...and physically...oh dear. Ladybug gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth, which did absolutely nothing to salvage the situation, since her eyes were still wide and staring.

Luka was standing in the doorway in his boxers, hair dripping into the towel around his shoulders, a faint blush growing on his face. “Ladybug. I wasn’t expecting you. Obviously.” 

Ladybug yelped and turned her back, this time slapping her hands over her eyes, though too late to do either of them any good. “I’m sorry!” Ladybug cried. “I just—your family was on  deck and I didn’t want anyone to see me coming in and the room was empty so I thought I could just—but I didn’t expect you to—“‘

“It’s fine,” Luka chuckled weakly, and she could hear him moving around behind her. “Nothing you wouldn’t see at the beach. Living in a house full of girls I don’t actually make it a practice to run around naked. You can look now.” 

“Good. Sound policy,” Ladybug managed, like she wasn’t dying of embarrassment. She dropped her hands and turned around and then bit the inside of her cheek to keep in another scream. He had his jeans on now but he was still digging through a pile of shirts on the end of his bed and she was staring at his bare back. Which wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before, really, but only when she was prepared and had Alya to smack her if she started...staring. Not ogling. Definitely not. 

“I’m assuming you need me for something?” he prompted, glancing over his shoulder. 

“Yes! Uh…” Ladybug shook herself back to reality and outlined the situation. How there had been a big design contest this week and one of the losers was taking it badly and had it out for the winner, a girl named—

“Marinette?” Luka turned to look at her sharply, now fully clothed (which, it turned out, helped less than it should have since knowing what he looked like under the shirt made her more than able to trace the lines his body made in it NOT THAT SHE WAS OH GOD) “Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

“Ah, yes,” Ladybug said, surprised enough to be shocked out of her absolutely-not-ogling. “You, um...know her?” 

“Yes, of course I do. If Marinette’s in trouble, I’ll do anything you need,” Luka declared, a fire in his eyes that almost made her step back. Ladybug paused and studied him for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Can you do this, Luka?” Ladybug asked, folding her arms. “The last thing I need is to suddenly be facing an akumatized Viperion with time reset powers. I know you guys are friends but if you’re more than that I need to know now.” What was she doing? It was a good thing she was still blushing from earlier. Why was she asking this, she knew he was over her, she was like a little sister to him and—wait, was he blushing? 

Luka looked away, but she was sure she saw red in his face. “We’re just friends,” he said softly. “Even if I sometimes wish we were more.” He glanced at her, and his blush deepened as he dropped his eyes again. “Maybe more than sometimes. I can do this, Ladybug. I won’t let my feelings for Marinette interfere. I promise.” He gave a lopsided smile. “I’ve gotten pretty good at keeping a lid on it.” 

“Oh,” Ladybug blinked. “I see.” She...wasn’t as surprised as she should be. Luka had never really made a secret of his feelings, but even if she hadn’t quite believed herself every time she told herself he was over her, she hadn’t expected him to be so...passionate about it. Especially after all this time. Especially after everything that had happened. “Well—well okay, if you think you can do this then I trust you.” She held out the box. 

Luka took the bracelet, greeted Sass briefly and transformed as Ladybug continued her instructions.

“I wanted to just hide Marinette but Chat thinks she needs more protection. He’s distracting the akuma now. You pick Marinette up at her home and keep her with you. Obviously, you’ll use Second Chance to keep her safe, but it might also take a few tries for Rena to get the illusion right, so you’ll also need to be in position to observe and report.” She couldn’t help a smile, feeling a rush of affection as the familiar green eyes blinked back at her. “I trust your judgement, so I’m not going to micromanage you; figure out what works and do it. Here’s the catch, though.” She folded her arms. “I won’t be there. I can’t explain to you why. Once the akuma’s focus is off Marinette, take her home, and proceed to Phase Two.” She continued giving him instructions and he listened attentively, asking only a few questions. 

Luka nodded as she finished. “I won’t let you down,” he said firmly. 

“You never have,” Ladybug smiled, and Luka looked...flattered? Almost shy. And that was kind of weird. Luka was reserved, sure, but never shy.

People did seem to find Ladybug intimidating, though. And it was kind of...cute. “You know,” she found herself saying as she strolled closer to him. “I think this Marinette girl’s awfully lucky to have caught your eye. I’m sure she’ll appreciate your help. I know I do.” Ladybug gave him a slow smile. She reached up and touched his mask with two fingers. Viperion’s eyes widened slightly. “I think I prefer blue eyes to green though.” 

“Me too,” he said almost absently, searching her face, and she thought she saw a hint of color just below the line of his mask. That made her smile wider. 

“It’s a bit of a complicated plan today, but I think you can handle it. Good luck.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek, and before Luka could react, she dove out of the porthole, yo-yo catching just in time to send her skimming away above the water. 

Luka—Viperion, now—swallowed hard, swaying slightly in place. Because it was a plain fact that Ladybug was hot, as well as strong, smart as a whip, and tough as nails. All things that very much appealed to him, even if his heart was still given elsewhere, and he...didn’t quite know what to do with the last few minutes.

Viperion shook himself. He had more important things to worry about. 

...Starting with how to leave the boat without being seen by his family. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Ladybug had caught him off guard this morning, and between having just woken up and running into Ladybug in his underwear—not to mention whatever that was just now—he was feeling a little off balance. It should have occurred to him to wait until he was off the boat to transform. 

Well, he’d figure something out. It sounded like his job was simple enough. He wasn’t super happy about having Marinette actually at the battle site, but he could see Chat’s point; it was the only way they knew she was absolutely protected and the akuma couldn’t pull a double-fake on them to come back for her. It had happened before. Hanging back with him, Marinette would be as protected as possible, out of sight of the villain to keep her from accidentally interfering with Rena’s illusion, with Second Chance as a backup if something went wrong.

Somehow, he just had to try and not be too Luka around Marinette. Best to keep things chill and aloof if he could, he supposed. 

Viperion could see her on her balcony as he approached, that would help. His last leap took him soaring in a flip to land on her balcony railing with a bit more show than was probably necessary. 

“Marinette?” he smiled. “Nice to meet you. Ladybug told you to expect me, I hope?”

“Wow,” Marinette breathed, blinking up at him. “She said she was sending someone but not who. You’re...you’re Viperion, right?” Her big blue eyes were round in her face. “You’re like—the most mysterious of all the heroes. You’re hardly ever on the Ladyblog.” 

“Not mysterious, just...quiet,” Viperion smiled with a shrug, feeling a little warm suddenly beneath his mask as he hopped off the rail. “I’m not really a front line fighter like Chat. I do my best work behind the scenes.”  

“Really? But you’re so strong—” Marinette’s eyes traveled down his body, rather blatantly checking him out. “Wow,” she breathed. “I thought the suit was just armored, but that’s actually you.” 

Viperion shifted a little uncomfortably under her gaze. Not that he minded, just...it was Marinette and she’d never looked at him like that before and...he kinda liked it.

Okay, he really liked it. 

But Ladybug was counting on him to be professional. 

Viperion cleared his throat. “Did Ladybug brief you on the plan?” 

Marinette nodded, still studying him though her expression turned serious. “Yes. I’m supposed to stick to you like glue and follow any orders you give.”

Viperion nodded. “We’ll be out of the main battle so you shouldn’t be in any danger, but that last part is really important. You’re a smart girl though so I’m not worried.” Much. He offered her a hand. “We should go so we’re in place before Chat gets there.” 

Marinette met his eyes and—shit, there went his traitor heart, suddenly galloping a mile a minute. Help me out here, Sass, he thought desperately, but his pulse continued to pound as Marinette put her hand in his and smiled up at him. Shyly, but also...mischievously? Her lips twitched just slightly, like they wanted to twist in a smirk, and crap why was he even looking at her lips, look away, Luka. 

If she smirked at him now he’d never be able to keep his cool. 

Taking a deep breath and hoping against hope that he wasn’t blushing too obviously, he tugged her closer to him and dropped her hand to put his on her back. “May I?” he asked, and when she nodded he lifted Marinette in his arms and settled her close against him, making sure he had a firm grip. She put one arm around his neck but ran her other hand across his chest, firm enough for him to feel the pressure even through the suit. His breath caught as she exclaimed “Cool! The material’s so different from Chat’s. Neat texture.” Her tone turned flirtatious. “Fits you really well too.” 

“Ah—” He couldn’t think.  

“Sorry,” she said, glancing up at him and looking not sorry at all. “I’m a fashion designer. You’re—inspiring.” She used the arm around his neck to pull herself up to look in his face, and he had to adjust his grip quickly. “I have to tell you I love your mask.” And there was the smirk, even more devastating at close range as she ran her fingertips along the bottom of his mask. 

Viperion felt dizzy as she settled back again with a cheerful, “Ready when you are!” 

***

She wouldn’t stop touching him. Tracing the lines of his suit where the different materials met, outlining the yellow diamond on his chest with one finger, not-so-subtly feeling up his arm…

Chill and aloof was obviously not going to be an option, he admitted to himself. He needed a new plan.

When her fingers traced his collar, actually brushed his skin at the hollow of his throat, he stumbled and nearly dropped her, landing hard on his knees.

“Are you okay?” she gasped, snatching her hand back guiltily. 

“I’m fine.” Viperion sighed and set her down, getting to his feet and brushing off his knees before turning to face her, trying to figure out how to say what he needed to say without hurting her feelings. 

He thought he understood what was going on. Marinette was always under a huge amount of stress. Pretty as she was, she didn’t get out much, and probably didn’t get to do a lot of flirting. She wouldn’t flirt with him—Luka him—because she knew he had feelings for her and she worried about leading him on. She couldn’t flirt with Adrien, partly because he was dating her friend and largely because she could still barely speak a coherent word to him.

As Viperion, he was a safe option. Marinette spent too much time lonely and sad. As far as she was concerned, she’d only just met Viperion, and when the mission was over he would disappear. She didn’t have to follow through on anything she said to him. Nothing she did raised any expectations. She didn’t have to worry about leading him on or breaking his heart. The situation must be frustrating for her. She was a doer. Being a spectator at best and a victim at worst in this situation, it made total sense that she would need something else to think about and focus on, a chance to blow off a little steam without consequences. 

And honestly, Luka was fine with indulging her. It fed his ego that she found him attractive enough to flirt with, even tease, but more importantly, if he could make Marinette happy, he wanted to. If he could make her feel pretty and valued and wanted, like the attractive young woman she was but never seemed to have time to be, then he wanted to, even if he had to wear a mask.

There was just one little problem. 

“Marinette,” he said, as gently as he could, “I get that you’re interested in the suit and I’m more happy to let you look at it, but first I’d like to get us where we’re going without faceplanting us both into the pavement, okay?”

“Right,” Marinette said, looking horrified and completely embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I should have known better, if course you’re a professional and I’m being horrible, aren’t I, making you uncomfortable when you’re just trying to do your job—“

Well, that wouldn’t do. He placed two fingers over her lips.

“Don’t be sorry,” he told her when she stopped talking, and chucked her under the chin gently. “I don’t mind you touching me at all. In fact—“ he leaned into her space, just a little. “I like it. Certainly worse things than having a hot girl put her hands on me, even if it’s just for the suit.” He gave her an appreciative look and a wink and had the satisfaction of seeing her blush. “I just don’t want you to be hurt. Ladybug’s counting on me to keep you safe after all.”

He could see instantly that it was the wrong thing to say, though he couldn’t fathom why. The color creeping up her face drained away and her smile turned plastic.

“Right,” Marinette said cheerfully, but the sound was hollow. “Wouldn’t want to let Ladybug down.” 

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Vierion repeated, putting his hand on her shoulder, all playfulness gone as he hunched slightly to look into her face. “Ever, but definitely not on my watch. Marinette, it would kill me if anything happened to you because I was distracted. And you can be…” He gave her a lopsided grin and a quick up and down look. “Very distracting.” 

She hunched her shoulders slightly, blushing, in a way that took him back to another time when he’d felt the urgent need to tell her how important she was. “I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said warmly, squeezing her shoulder before letting go. “You can check out the suit as much as you want when we get where we’re going.”  

“Right,” she breathed as he picked her up again. She put her arms around his neck and tucked her head down, pressing her eyes against his neck. “Because it was totally all about the suit.” 

Viperion chuckled. “You can check me out too if you want, I don’t mind.” 

He cradled her a little tighter as he ran, aware his heart was pounding from more than the run.

***

“There you go, Marinette. We made it.” Viperion let her feet drop, keeping his arm around her back. Marinette slid down his body until her feet touched the ground, her arms still around his neck. “I’m sure you’ve heard of Rena Rouge,” he added, gesturing at the hero in question. “Rena, Marinette.” 

“Hi,” Marinette said, sliding around to his side as she hunched her shoulders and waved with an awkward smile. “Um, sorry about all the trouble here.”

“It’s not your fault, Marinette,” Viperion said warmly, squeezing her against his side before Rena could even speak. 

Rena was looking at them with raised eyebrows. “You two are certainly...friendly,” she commented. 

“Are we?” Viperion said, lips twitching with the effort not to laugh as he looked down at Marinette still pressed against his side. “Sorry if I’m being too familiar,” he told her insincerely. She covered a giggle herself as he continued, “It’s just, well.” He gave Marinette a sly grin and a wink. “Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng is a bit of a mouthful.”

She looked up at him with a wicked twinkle in her pretty eyes. “I think you could handle it.”

He had to look away for just a moment before he could keep a straight face as he told her in a low voice, “I’d certainly try if you wanted me to.” Marinette giggled again behind her hand. 

Rena’s eyebrows looked likely to shoot off her head entirely. “Well, it certainly seems like there’s something going on here that I missed.” 

“You didn’t miss anything,” Viperion shrugged as Marinette unplastered herself from his side and wrapped her hands around his bicep instead. 

Probably fortunately, Chat showed up right then and ran through the plan again. Marinette continued clinging to Viperion’s arm throughout the briefing, which got looks from both Rena and Chat, but Viperion’s face remained impassive. 

“Don’t get distracted,” Chat warned him before leaping away. 

Marinette snorted softly. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Viperion coughed to cover an embarrassed laugh. 

“Looks like it’s just you and me now,” he remarked. 

Marinette perked up a little bit, squeezing his arm. “Do you work out? Or is it just part of being a hero? Do magic muscles come with the suit?”

Viperion laughed as he reached back for his lyre and shook his earpiece out of its compartment. “A little more strength, yeah, but no extra magic muscles. Let’s just say I lead an active lifestyle.”

“One that includes a lot of time in the sun,” Marinette giggled, reaching up to touch his cheek. “You’re pretty tanned. You definitely didn’t get that from being a hero.”

“Kind of hard to sunbathe in the suit,” Viperion agreed, running a finger along the edge of his mask. “Leaves awkward tan lines.” 

Marinette buried her face in his shoulder to muffle her laugh. “So the tan goes all the way down then?” she asked, when she could. 

Viperion smirked at her. “Yep. All the way.”  Marinette turned red and sputtered, and he looked away, grinning as he slipped his earpiece into place. Went a little further than you meant to, didn’t you? he thought with amusement. Too bad for you Couffaines have no shame. “Chat, Rena, do you read me?” 

“Loud and clear.”

“Gotcha, Scales.”

“Let me know when you’re in position,” he said, and then movement caught his eye. 

“Akuma,” he said urgently, growing serious at once. He put his arm out to move Marinette behind him, and felt her hands on his back as she moved close. “Here we go,” he said grimly. “Second Chance.” He slid the snake head back and touched his communicator. “Chat, Rena, she’s here. Checkpoint set. Round one.” 

Marinette’s hands moved over his back and down to his sides, and he sucked in a breath as they slid up the smoother texture of the darker panels on his side. “This part is kind of like Chat’s suit,” she murmured. “But this part must be armored,” she ran her hands forward over the ridged teal armor over his belly. 

Dear God, what had he gotten himself into?

She must have noticed his tension. “You said I could touch you,” she reminded him.

He had to swallow before he could answer. “I did.” 

“Did you change your mind?” 

Luka closed his eyes for a moment. He’d always known she was attracted to him but it wasn’t a thought he normally allowed himself to indulge in much. It just made knowing she didn’t actually want him worse. If he wanted to back out, now was the time. “No,” he said finally. “It’s okay.” 

Viperion drew back slightly as the akuma passed by below them. He felt Marinette peek over his shoulder.

“Oh, she’s scary,” Marinette whispered, and pressed her face into the back of his neck. “You’re sure you can’t see us?” 

He turned his head toward her for just a moment and leaned it on hers. “It’s fine, we’re out of sight. Don’t be scared, we’re all here to protect you.”

“I know,” she said softly. “I’m not scared if I’m with you.”

He had to shift his position to cover the shiver that sent through him. The akuma was past them now and Rena was casting her illusion. 

She ran her fingers through the tips of his hair at the nape of his neck. “Your hair’s so soft. Guess a Miraculous dye job will do that, huh?”

Oh, that felt amazing, but Viperion could see the akuma shriek and begin to flee. “Second Chance,” he breathed. A flash of white, and then he gave his debrief over the comm so that Rena could adjust her illusion. Then Marinette’s hands were sliding up his sides again.

It took nine resets before Rena got her illusion refined enough to fool the Akuma into thinking she’d gotten her revenge on Marinette and for Chat to successfully lure her away. Nine times he recounted the battle over the comms and suggested changes.

Nine times he’d steadfastly kept his attention on the akuma while he let Marinette run her hands over his sides, up his belly and chest. Nine times he felt her press her face to the back of his neck and rest her cheek on his back while she toyed with his hair. He knew every line of her teasing by heart. His own varied, partially depending on his own sense of whether he was going to have to reset again. The only reason he hadn’t just given in and kissed her (or tackled her to the floor, if he was honest) was the combined knowledge that his friends were still in harm's way and that Sass would give him a lecture about the responsibilities that came with time powers. 

He was maybe wound a little bit tight by the time he took her home. 

“Well,” he said, setting her down on her balcony. “Here we are, beautiful. Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?” she asked, not unhooking her arms from around his neck. 

“I’ve never enjoyed an akuma battle so much,” he told her, voice low, one hand sliding onto her hip while the other gripped the railing behind him in a desperate attempt to ground himself before he did something stupid. “Whoever catches your heart will be one lucky guy.”

“Thanks for being my hero today,” she smiled up at him through her lashes, a pretty pink tinting her cheeks the only warning he got that she was about to wreck him again. “I think a kiss is the traditional reward?”

“I don’t hold with those kinds of traditions,” he said a little roughly, hand tightening on the rail behind him. “But if you want to kiss me, I’m not about to say no.”

“If I do, are you going to kiss me back?” she asked, and though her tone was teasing her eyes were anxious. 

Viperion hummed thoughtfully, the hand on her hip sliding around to press into her lower back, pulling her closer. “I guess that’s just a chance you’ll have to take. If you decide you want to.”

“I want to,” she breathed, and he bent down until his forehead touched hers, eyes on hers the whole time. He felt her breath hitch and closed his eyes, waiting, as always, for her to choose, and trying to pretend his heart wasn’t racing just at the thought.

Her fingertips touched his cheek, hesitating, and then her palm fitted itself to the curve. It occurred to him to be glad he’d had time to shave before Ladybug showed up. He did kiss her back and she grew more confident, pressing into him, and the next thing he knew her hands were in his hair and her tongue was in his mouth and he made an extremely unheroic noise even as his arms wrapped around her and pulled her up into him. 

Viperion’s bracelet beeped and he felt Marinette sigh as she pulled back from him. “That means you have to go, right?” 

“I, um,” he blinked as she began to back away from him and his hands slid from her back to her arms, and then to her hands, which softly squeezed before letting go completely. 

“Please be safe, Viperion,” she said, her brow creasing as she undoubtedly remembered that he still had an akuma to defeat. Viperion swallowed and shook his head quickly, mustering a Chat-worthy grin that was entirely fake.

“Don’t worry,” he winked. “That Akuma’s not even close to being the most dangerous thing I’ve been around today. I’ll be fine. Go inside now and stay there until Ladybug does her thing, okay?” Viperion turned away quickly, pulling in a deep breath before he vaulted over the balcony railing.

***

His bracelet beeped a final warning about three rooftops later. He quickly found a place in the shadow of the building’s roof entry hutch and put his back against the wall. His transformation released and he met Sass’s highly amused eyes before he put his hands on his face and slid to the ground with a muffled whine. 

Sass’s hissing laughter was deeply unhelpful.

“Sass,” Luka said from behind his hands. “What the hell was that?”

“At a guess,” Sass replied, smirking—Luka didn’t have to look at him to know it—“Hormonesss.”

Luka slid his hands down to glare at Sass over his fingers. “That’s your input? Ladybug and Marinette both decide to try and make me combust today and the best you’ve got is hormones?”

Sass laughed at him again and Luka groaned. 

“What do you wissssh me to sssay?” the kwami chuckled. “I have myssself heard Ladybug refer to Viperion as a ‘ssssnack.’ I don’t sssee any reason Marinette should think differently. Unless I mistake the meaning of the word in this contexsst, that should be ssssufficient anssswer.” He flicked his tail. “Ssssspeaking of which.”

Luka groaned. “I could have lived without knowing that, thanks.” He pulled the little baggie full of chopped hardboiled egg out of his pocket and tossed it to the kwami without even looking. “Eat fast, we have to go meet Ladybug’s other contact.” 

Sass just chuckled and pulled the bag open. 

***

She didn’t have a lot of time, she was on a schedule, but Marinette couldn’t resist throwing herself on her bed and squealing into her pillow. Then she rolled over onto her back. “I can’t believe I did all that,” she gasped, fingers flying to her lips “What’s wrong with me?”

Tikki floated nearby, giggling. “You like Luka, Marinette, you know you do. I think you just felt a little bit bolder knowing he was wearing the mask.” She flew close and poked Marinette’s cheek. “Was it everything you thought it would be.” 

Tikki zipped back quickly as Marinette pulled her pillow back over her red face and squealed into it again. She never thought she would be bold enough to do such things, but...but it felt good. And Luka...he’d been thrown at first, clearly, but then he’d rolled with it, because Luka was super good at rolling with things, even, apparently, if those things included her touching him and teasing him and flirting and trading innuendo she never could have spoken to his unmasked face. 

Would it...be like that? If it wasn’t Marinette and Viperion, but Marinette and Luka, and they were in a relationship, is that...is that how it would feel? Not awkward and embarrassing, but...fun and teasing and exciting. Was that how it felt when you liked someone who liked you back? Would he look at her like that every day with those soft eyes, and talk to her in that warm, low voice, and stand with his arm around her, pulling her close into his side, and...and let her kiss him like that...or maybe kiss her like— 

She felt Tikki land on her head and pat her hair. “Come on Marinette! You’d better get ready for the next part. You don’t want to keep Viperion waiting,” she finished in a singsong. 

“Right,” Marinette sighed. She got off her bed and pulled the Miracle Box out from under it. As soon as it opened, she picked up the mouse Miraculous and weighed it thoughtfully in her hand. It had been a couple of years since Multimouse’s last appearance. Surely she was safe to try it again. Mylène had done a great job with it but she was out of the country on one of her eco projects for the moment, so it was up to Marinette.

Not that she minded the chance to work with Viperion a little longer. Not that she minded at all.

Marinette put on the necklace and smiled at Mullo, eyes sparkling. Moments later, she was leaping off her balcony in the familiar pink and grey suit, on her way to meet Viperion, her heart beating with anticipation. 

***

Viperion was leaning against a wall, idly strumming his lyre and daydreaming about Marinette, when his mission partner hit the roof and rolled to her feet. It took him a moment to totally focus on her but when he did it took all of his natural stoicism to keep his jaw from dropping.

That...was not the mouse he expected.

Holy shit.

Until today, Luka would have denied that he had a type, but God. Clearly he was weak for tiny blue-eyed dynamos with dark hair. He’d never seen eyes that could kill like that except on Marinette. Her suit was fitted like Ladybug’s rather than padded and armored like his or Chat’s or Carpace’s, or flared like Rena’s. While all the boys had gotten used to seeing, or avoiding seeing, Ladybug’s curves in the suit, Viperion suddenly realized that the red and black spotted pattern did a much better job of distracting from the more subtle lines of her body, and the new mouse’s light grey suit...did not.

She cleared her throat, and he realized that he was staring at her abs and straightened off the wall, tucking his lyre away.

“Sorry, I was expecting someone else,” he said as smoothly as he could, offering his hand. “Viperion.” 

“Nice to meet you,” she said brightly, shaking his hand and then planting one hand on her cocked hip and saluting with the other. “I’m afraid your regularly scheduled mouse couldn’t be here today, so I’m Multimouse, at your service.” She winked one big blue eye and Viperion’s knees went weak.

He decided he was taking a very long, very cold shower when he got home. Assuming he survived. The universe really had it in for him today. 

Well it’s a hell of a way to go, he thought to himself, taking a steadying breath.

“Happy to work with you,” Viperion smiled. “I’m sure Ladybug briefed you on the plan, any questions?” 

“Plenty,” she grinned with another devastating wink. “But we’re supposed to be working.” 

Viperion folded his arms and smirked despite the heat he felt in his face. “I’m almost afraid to ask if there’s anything I should know.” 

“Just follow my lead, handsome,” she grinned, turning away as she unlooped her jump rope belt with an entirely unnecessary swing of her hips. “Think you can do that?” 

Oh, Mousey was a flirt. He grinned. “I’ll certainly enjoy trying,” he murmured, quiet enough that she could ignore it if she chose.

Instead Multimouse looked back at him over her shoulder with a mischievous smile. “I know you’ve had a long day already, so just let me know if you get tired.”

Viperion chuckled. “I think I’m getting my second wind,” he winked. “By all means, after you.” 

“Catch me if you can, handsome!” Multimouse swung from the building and Viperion took a running leap after her.

Multimouse led him to a warehouse, and after he smashed the lock, they slipped inside. It was deserted and Chat was supposed to be keeping the akuma occupied and after his ring, but there was no harm in being cautious. “You’re a handy partner to have,” Multimouse said, looping one arm through his. “This plan shouldn’t be difficult at all.”

“Ladybug did the hard work,” Viperion commented. “I’m just the muscle today. Have to hand it to her, she’s got a mind like a steel trap.”

“Ooh, watch your phrasing,” Multimouse winced, swinging her hip into him. “Remember your company, handsome.” 

“Sorry,” Viperion chuckled. “You’re right, poor choice of words.” 

“If you’re nice for the rest of the mission maybe I’ll let you make it up to me,” Multimouse teased, fingers curling around his bicep. “Hmm, Ladybug knew what she was doing.”

Viperion plucked her hand off him. “Don’t do that, please.” 

“Oh,” her eyes widened slightly, the first sign of hesitancy he’d seen from her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

“You didn’t,” Viiperion told her, squeezing the hand he was still holding before letting go. “I’d just rather we keep this hands off, if you don’t mind. No hard feelings.”

 “Sure,” Multimouse perked up again, though he thought he saw a hint of pink under her mask. 

“Can’t say I mind being on pretty girl detail for the day,” he said lightly, hoping to put her back at ease. “Where to, ma’am? I’m supposed to follow your lead.”

“This way,” Multimouse tugged him towards a corridor. “The akuma victim rents a space back here to use for her studio. Ladybug wants us to get there, take a look around, and see if we can get the akumatized item. She thinks it’s probably boobytrapped, so that’s where I come in. You’ll set second chance before I go just in case anything goes wrong.” 

Viperion followed her and they started slowly down the long, echoey hallway. So much for stealth, he thought, wincing slightly. Multimouse must have thought so too because while she kept her alert posture, she smiled back at him and said, “So, did you know that you came up second on the Ladyblog’s Hottest Hero: Male Edition survey?” 

Viperion chuckled awkwardly, trying not to blush. “Chat’s hard to compete with,” he replied with a crooked smile. 

“You were robbed, if you ask me,” Multimouse said in a conversational tone, winking at him when he glanced over at her. She really needs to stop doing that. He swallowed and took a slow breath before he answered her. He had a feeling he was going to be doing a lot of belly breathing today. 

“Everybody has their own taste,” Viperion shrugged. “Guess not everybody goes for ‘mysterious, aloof, and quiet.’” 

“You read your own profile?” Multimouse giggled. 

“I was curious,” he grinned. “Haven’t you read yours?”

“Don’t have one,” Multimouse held up her hands and pretended to pout. “I’m so overlooked.”

“I can’t imagine anyone overlooking you.” 

“Ooh, flatterer,” she giggled, and then sobered. “This is actually only my second time out. The first time was years ago and it didn’t end so great.” 

“Really? That surprises me. You seem so natural,” Viperion said, following her down the corridor. 

“Why thank you,” Multimouse grinned over her shoulder at him, and his heart skipped a beat. 

Marinette, he reminded himself firmly, although she technically had no claim on him and he certainly had none on her. He blew out another breath, and then inhaled deeply—and abruptly wrinkled his nose. “Fabric dye,” he muttered. He’d been over to Marinette’s once while she was dying fabric and even with her windows open the smell had driven him up to her balcony. 

“Yes, this is the place,” Multimouse confirmed. She opened the door a crack and peeked inside, and Viperion readied himself to jerk her back in case of any unexpected surprises. “You don’t have to go any further,” she said, her flirtatious air gone and replaced with an intense focus that impressed him. “I know you hate the smell. Multitude!”

Viperion looked at her sharply but was blinded by the light of her power activating. He took a step back as she glowed brightly, and when he could see again, his partner was gone. He looked down to see the Multimice grinning up at him. One of them waved him down. Viperion knelt and put his hand down. One of the Multimice climbed onto his palm and he lifted her to his face. “I’ll stay with you,” she said cheerfully, hands on her hips. “Wouldn’t want you to get lonely.” 

Viperion chuckled. “Welcome aboard.” He brought his hand up to his shoulder and the Multimouse hopped up. 

“The rest of me will go scout and report back,” she said, and then pointed to his bracelet. “If you could?”

“Second Chance.” Viperion slid the bracelet back.

The Multimice still on the floor blew him a kiss in unison, and then ran off in different directions. Viperion couldn’t help a smile, though he directed it at the ground. She—they? were really too cute. 

“So,” Multimouse said, reclining on her side along his shoulder and propping her face on one hand, “Just you and me now. Does my handsome partner have a girlfriend?” 

“No girlfriend,” he sighed, a wistful smile taking over his face. “Just a girl. One amazing girl. You’re cute, Mousey, and I’m sure you’ve got a style of amazing all your own, but my girl...she’s not my girl, she doesn’t like me that way, but...anyway, there’s no one like her. Not even Ladybug.” He looked at her and she jumped, shutting her mouth quickly and looking down as she ran her finger across the texture of his suit. “You? Anyone special in your life?”

“Hmm,” Multimouse twirled her jump rope absently. “Sort of. It’s...complicated.” She sighed dreamily. “And I really wish it wasn’t, because I really do like him. He’s sweet and talented and thoughtful...insightful, really.” She sat up, crossing her legs, and reached up to pinch his cheek, which felt really funny considering how small she was. “Almost as handsome as you. Nice muscles, too, though he doesn’t show them off nearly enough.” She bounced her foot and seemed to consider what she was about to say. “I thought I’d missed my chance though. I kept him waiting for a long time, and—” She looked at him, and then looked away quickly. “I was pretty sure he didn’t feel that way about me anymore, but...I’m starting to wonder if…” He turned his head slightly so that he could see her face better. She was smiling softly down at the jump rope in her hand, biting her full lower lip and blushing. Viperion smiled. 

“Well, maybe it’s time you took a little chance then,” he said, shrugging his shoulder just enough to jostle her slightly. “If he’s been waiting all that time, then he’s probably not going to make a move unless you do. He’s kinda put himself out there enough, don’t you think?”

Multimouse frowned, blinking at him. “But if he was still into me, wouldn’t he keep trying? Other...other guys have…” 

Luka snorted softly. “Would you like him if he was like ‘other guys?’” 

“I’d like him if he was like you,” Multimouse purred, leaning against his neck. 

“Right, okay,” Viperion chuckled. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to. I’m just saying, if you are interested, then you’re going to have to make a move, because if he does still have feelings for you, he’s trying to respect you by keeping them to himself.” He turned his face toward her and winked. “Food for thought. Though I’m sure a girl like you has plenty of options.”

“Aw, I’ll bet you say that to all the girls you turn down.”

Luka chuckled. “Believe me, if it weren’t for M—my girl, I’d be first in line.”

Multimouse squeaked and nearly fell backwards off of his shoulder, and Luka bit his lip in a vain effort to contain his grin. 

“Need a hand?” he asked, careful not to move.

“No, I’m good!” she gasped, clawing her way back up the seams of his suit. Then she turned her head and brightened. “Oh, here I come!”

The Minimice—nope, Viperion immediately crossed that name out in his mind—the Manymice—no, that was practically the same as Multimice. Copymice? Okay that just sounded dumb. This is why I let Rose write the lyrics, ugh. The Multimice returned, each of them with their arms full of...yarn? Viperion knelt and his Multimouse jumped down from his shoulder. They chattered amongst themselves, talking so fast that Viperion couldn’t quite keep up, and then they lined up and began knotting their pieces of yarn together.

One of them (he wasn’t sure if it was the same one that had been with him all this time; he wished they came in different colors or something so he could tell them apart) turned to him and said, “The akumatized object is defended by a weird sort of...maze made of yarn. Like one of those laser grids you see in spy movies? We’re pretty sure that if we can get above it, we can drop down through the maze. I’m not sure what the strands do but we’d just as soon not find out! I think we’ve got enough pieces here to reach from those girders up there.” She pointed up and Viperion looked up to the girders crossing the warehouse-style ceiling.

“Are you sure it’ll hold?” Viperion frowned. “I don’t want you to fall.” 

“Check it,” Multimouse winked at him, holding it up. Viperion took yarn and held it up, inspecting the knots. His eyebrows went up.

“You know your knots,” he said, tugging the yarn carefully. The knots tightened and held. “Where’d you learn that?” 

“Oh,” the mini Multimouse’s eyes went wide, and she blushed under her mask. “Umm...a friend taught me.” 

“Your special friend?” Viperion teased, “Maybe more special than you said if he taught you knots like these.”

“It is not like that,” Multimouse insisted, growing pinker. She folded her arms and looking away from him. “He spends a lot of time around boats, that’s all. Maybe I should ask how you know them.” 

“I’ve spent a little bit of time on boats as well,” Viperion chuckled. “Well, it looks pretty good. I think it should work. Everybody grab on, let’s give it a quick test and make sure it’ll hold your weights.” 

The Multimice all grabbed onto the yarn rope in a line, and Luka carefully lifted it by one end, his other hand ready to catch anybody that fell. Finally all of the mice were off the ground, the end of the rope hovering an inch or so above the floor. “Okay,” Viperion nodded. “Okay, looks good. Nice work. I’ll take you up.” He looked up to the steel girders criss-crossing above him and then around, planning his route up. 

It took some fumbling but after a few minutes, Viperion got to his feet with his arms full of clinging Multimice. “Everybody good?” he asked. “If you don’t feel secure, now’s the time to say.” 

“We’re good!” chorused the girls, and Viperion chuckled, then looked up again and took a deep breath.

“Okay, here we go. One...two…” He felt them grip tighter. “Three!” Viperion leapt, resisting the instinct to use his arms for balance and momentum, and made it up to the steel crossbeam. He blew out a slow breath, relieved as he let the Multimice carefully down on the girder. 

“Well done,” one said, patting his hand with a sympathetic look, and Viperion smiled tightly, a little more adrenaline in his system than he wanted to admit to from the effort of getting up here without dropping or crushing anyone. 

“Be careful,” he said as the Multimice walked along the girder until they were all gathered above the glowing yarn maze, looking down into the center. Luka followed, careful not to knock anyone off as he looked down. 

“Not scared of heights, are you?” Multimouse teased. 

“Not at all,” Luka chuckled, sitting down on the girder and hanging his legs off as he looked down. “What is that? It looks like a stapler.”

“It’s a bedazzler,” said Multimouse, and all of them wrinkled their noses at once. “How cheap. Did she really think she was going to pass that off in front of those judges? Audrey Bourgeois might be the queen of glitter but I guarantee you the stuff she uses costs at least a hundred bucks a bottle and cheap rhinestones are not going to cut it. I can just hear her now.” She put her nose in the air, one hand on her hip and the other one out in an affected pose as she flapped her hand. “Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!” Viperion’s breath caught, his eyes widening slightly.

“That’s...a pretty good impression,” he said slowly, looking intently at her. “Almost the best one I’ve seen.” 

Multimouse just shook her head. “Poor thing was probably humiliated, no wonder Hawkmoth got to her.” She held up the end of their yarn rope. “Would you mind tying it?” 

Viperion did so, hands working the tiny yarn rope almost automatically as his mind raced on other matters. He gave the Multimice a thoughtful look, but none of them noticed, all on their hands and knees staring down at the purple bedazzler. “This is really worrying,” one of them commented. “This is the first time an akuma’s actually hidden away from the akumatized person. This one’s simple enough, but they always get smarter.” 

When the rope was secure, he lowered it carefully between the strands of the yarn maze. Four Multimice hopped onto it one by one and slid down.

Working together, they knotted the end of the yarn rope securely around the bedazzler, silently thanking Luka for his lessons on knots and ropes, and then one by one the Multimice shimmied back up the rope. Once there, they reformed into one large multimouse, who grinned up at Viperion triumphantly as she reached down and grabbed the yarn rope, hauling the bedazzler up hand over hand. “And there we go,” she grinned triumphantly, sitting down on the beam and crossing her legs, holding out the bedazzler triumphantly.

Viperion was looking at her strangely, one arm folded across his chest and the other propped up on it, fingers pressed to his lips. Multimouse cocked her head, and looked back at him. “Do I have something on my face?” she quipped. “Besides the mask.” 

He didn’t answer. 

“Care to do the honors?” Multimouse asked, setting the bedazzler down between them. 

Viperion wordlessly took his lyre from the small of his back and smashed it down in a quick, violent movement that made Multimouse jump. It did the trick, though, and the akuma floated free. 

“Wow,” Multimouse said absently, tracking the little butterfly. “Never thought I’d see you do that with an instrument. I’ll signal Ladybug and meet you on the next roof over.” She got to her feet and leapt nimbly across the beams, following the akuma. When she was sure she was out of Viperion’s sight, she whispered, “Come on out, Tikki.” Tikki popped out of one of her buns and came to float in front of her, beaming. “Ready?” Multimouse asked, and Tikki nodded. “Okay. Mullo, Tikki, unify.” A few minutes later, she’d captured the akuma and tossed her yoyo to cast the cure.

She stood weighing her yoyo in her hand. Technically speaking, Multibug supposed there was no need for her to meet up with Viperion again. She could have just sent him home, which was her original plan. But she hadn’t and he was expecting her and she felt unwilling to disappoint him. Marinette was used to the extra freedom that came with the mask and didn’t usually let it go to her head, but...well. She’d said a lot of things to Viperion today that Marinette had been longing to say to Luka for a while now and it felt good. He deserved to hear that he was brave and strong and kind and wonderful, and nobody said it to him the way they should.

Including her. 

“Mullo, Tikki, divide,” she ordered, and Tikki flew free. She took one look at Multimouse’s face and giggled, hiding back in her bun again.

When Multimouse arrived on the roof, Viperion was sitting on the ledge of the roof, one knee bent and one hanging down, his eyes on the lyre in his hands as he idly plucked a tune. He looked like he’d been plucked from the gardens at Versaille and left there by accident. There was something about his posture that made her uneasy and she approached him with a little less swagger than she had planned. She opened her mouth to greet him but he spoke before she could.

“I was just thinking,” he said, eyes still down, “About that girl. The one I’m so crazy about. She’s a lot like you.” 

Multimouse rocked back on her heels slightly, trying not to give away how thrown she was. She folded her arms and cocked her shoulders teasingly, closing one eye. “I thought you said there was nobody like her.” 

Viperion chuckled, still strumming. Strumming...strumming Marinette’s song, she realized with a sudden jolt. “This girl, she’s amazing. I’ve been in love with her for years. She wasn’t interested though so I’ve been kinda hanging back for a while now.” He shook his head, and Multimouse was having trouble looking away from the fingers plucking the lyre. “I’m starting to think though...maybe she’s changing her mind. Maybe she’s starting to feel a little bit of what I feel for her.” 

Marinette felt a thrill that sped up and down her body and took up residence in her stomach, electrifying the butterflies already fluttering there. “You still love her?”

Viperion smiled, and stopped playing, returning his lyre to the small of his back as he cocked his head to look at her, and the look in his eyes took her breath. “More and more as time passes. She just keeps getting more amazing, not less. I’ve dated other people, but never for long. Nobody measures up. I think maybe I can get over her then I see her again and it’s like no time has passed at all.”

Multimouse had no reason to blush at that, she reminded herself. She strolled over to him and turned, flattening her hands on the ledge where he was sitting and leaning back against it. “You should tell her, then. Maybe you’re right and her feelings are changing, but she thinks you’ve moved on so she’s too scared to say anything.”

“Well, you know. I might be wrong, but…” Viperion leaned toward her and put his mouth right by her ear. “I think I just did.” 

She couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her. 

Viperion hopped off the ledge and turned to face her, placing one hand next to her on the ledge as he leaned in close. Just like Luka, she thought distantly, her heart racing, to not trap her in, to leave her an escape.  “You know a little too much about me for coincidence, little mouse. And maybe I know you just a little bit too well. I’ve heard you do that Audrey Bourgeois impression a few thousand times.” Multmouse bit her lip. “You’ve been running me a merry chase all day but I’ve caught you now, haven’t I?” Viperion continued, his nose brushed lightly against her cheek, just under her mask. “Can I kiss you?” 

“I don’t mind, handsome,” Multimouse said, as bravely as she could manage, even though having him so close was making her heart pound. “But what if you’re wrong?” 

“Haven’t you heard?” She could see Viperion’s grin widen out of the corner of her eye. “I’m all about taking chances.” 

Multimouse turned her face to give him a Look, lips parted for a retort, but as soon as she turned to him, he dipped down and kissed her—not the soft, careful way she’d always imagined Luka would kiss, but hard and hungry and fierce, like—

Like they were both wearing masks and they could pretend it never happened if they chose. Like it might be the only time she’d ever let him and he intended to make the most of it. Like she’d been torturing him all day and he just couldn’t take it anymore.

Like he’d been in love with her for years and was finally feeling a tiny sliver of hope that she might have feelings for him too.

She felt him hesitate and begin to pull back, and suddenly she realized she hadn’t exactly stopped him, but she wasn’t really responding either, too caught off guard to do more than let her lips form to his. And if that wasn’t just like Luka, to kiss her like that and still wait for her. 

Marinette might have hesitated. Ladybug would have delivered a lecture on professionalism in the suit.

Multimouse put her arms around his neck to stop his retreat and pressed into him, catching his lower lip between her teeth before pressing her mouth to his. His breath hitched and his hesitation disappeared and then they were really kissing, and it was like kissing him on her balcony only better, because this time he wasn’t shocked and hesitating and acting on instinct.  

This time he wanted her and she wanted him and neither of them had to own up to it if they didn’t want to and it made them reckless.

By the time they stopped only his arm around her waist and the hand feeling up her back were keeping her from just toppling over the roof, he’d bent her so far back. They hung there for a moment, panting, and then he slowly straightened, bringing her back upright. He grinned at her, looking extremely pleased with himself as he eyed her. She felt a little cheated that his Miraculous lipstick wasn’t smudged, but his hair was a wreck, which made her smirk. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he told her, voice deeper than she’d ever heard it outside of a performance.

Multimouse slipped out of his arms and turned half-away from him, hands on her hips. “You think you know who I am,” she said, pouting bruised lips. “But that doesn’t mean I know who you are.” 

“Hmm,” he smiled indulgently, leaning back against the roof ledge. “If you didn’t know before, I think you know now. I’m planning to be at Cafe Belle about two o’clock tomorrow. If the girl I like just happens to wander by, I’ll ask her to join me for coffee and cheesecake.” 

Multimouse wrinkled her nose. “Is that a mouse joke?” 

Viperion’s low chuckle made her shiver. “If she doesn’t care for cheesecake I’m sure I can find something to her taste.” 

“Hmm,” Multimouse said airily, twirling the end of her jump rope tail as she sauntered away from him. “Well, good luck with that…” 

Viperion sighed, head cocking slightly. “I am going to miss that suit.” 

Multimouse whirled, her hands on her hips. “And I thought you were such a gentleman.” 

Viperion grinned, looking at her through his bangs, his green eyes looking somehow more intense and...predatory than Luka’s usual blue. “I guess we both learned something about each other today. I didn’t know you could be such a tease. You made it an awfully long day today, you know.” 

Multimouse cocked a hip and folded her arms. “You still might be wrong.”

Viperion shrugged, but his grin didn’t budge. “Maybe.” He winked. “See you tomorrow.” He kicked up his legs and flipped over the roof ledge behind him. 

Multimouse sighed. “I’m going to miss that suit too.” 

***

Luka was sweating and exhausted by the time he got back to the boat. He’d run as Viperion as fast and as far as he could, teeth clenched to keep from whooping at the top of his lungs. 

Even after his transformation dropped, he sprinted a couple of blocks just on his own. He had, after all, kind of a lot of energy to burn off. Every time he thought he was calming down, he remembered, and a grin split his face and he put on another burst of speed. 

He could hear Sass laughing at him in his hood and he couldn’t care at all. 

Luka arrived home panting and sweating and dishevelled. That wasn’t unusual for him; if anyone saw him they’d probably assume he’d been at work—which was sort of true, anyway, even if no one knew he occasionally moonlighted as a superhero and made out with pretty girls on rooftops how the hell did this become his life.

Sass eyed Luka as the kwami ate his snack. Luka grinned at him and then at the ground.

“May I asssk what that was?”

Luka shrugged his shoulders without looking up. “Hormones?” 

Sass laughed. “Indeed.” 

Luka risked a glance at him. “Are you going to yell at me?” 

Sass snorted. “I am not. If you wissssh a lecture, I’m sure Ladybug can arrange a disssscusion with Tikki. Persssonally, I think if you are judged worthy to wield me, which you have done resssponssibly for yearsss, it isss reasssonable to asssume you are not a fool. You knew what you were doing, you knew the risssk you were taking. Ladybug trusssts you with the fate of the city; I trussst you to ssstand up to your choicesss, whatever the outcome.”

“I—” Luka sighed. “Thanks, Sass.” 

Sass finished his food and came to land on Luka’s shoulder, wrapping his tail lightly around Luka’s neck. He patted Luka’s cheek gently.

Luka put the plate away and went back on deck to wait for Ladybug. Unsurprisingly, given how long it had taken him to get home, he didn’t have to wait long. He was leaning on his elbows staring at the water when her feet hit the deck and the zip of her retracting yoyo. 

“You’re not playing your guitar,” she observed.

Luka turned and shrugged. “It’s been kind of a weird day,” he said, handing over the bracelet. “I think I’m still processing it.” 

Ladybug’s eyebrow quirked and his heart jumped for no apparent reason. Habit, he supposed, at this point. Gorgeous blue-eyed girls had been wrecking him all day so why should now be any different?

Different. 

It...wasn’t different. It wasn’t different at all. Luka swallowed, suddenly staring at Ladybug’s mouth.

“Good weird or bad weird?” Ladybug asked, tilting her head and studying him. He probably looked deranged, he realized, windblown and sweaty and suddenly having a lot of difficulty putting words together.

“Good,” he replied, barely managing not to stutter. “The good kind, the best, actually, um…” He pressed his lips together before he could babble anything else. Ladybug looked like she was fighting a smile.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am fantastic,” he said, collapsing more than leaning back against the rail. “Couldn’t be better.” 

Ladybug giggled. “Well, that’s good to hear.” She gave him a smirk and flung her yoyo. “See you around, Luka.”  

“Right,” he said numbly to the empty air, and then he bolted for the door to the cabin. He clattered down the stairs and burst into his thankfully-empty room where he could lose his shit in peace. 

It was a little thing, really. Her lips were just a little redder than usual, but it was enough. The eyes, the lips, the hair—holy shit the smirk—he felt like an idiot. Luka’s legs went weak and he sat down on his bed.

He bent his head and ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. “I need a shower,” he muttered absently.

“Didn’t you shower this morning?” Juleka grumbled from the doorway.

Luka stripped off his sweaty shirt and threw it in her face. “I’m a guy, I need another one.” 

“Eeew!” she squealed, clawing it away. By the time she threw it to the floor, Luka had pushed past her and into the Liberty’s small bathroom, just about the only place where he could actually be alone on the whole boat. 

He preferred to be alone while his brain was melting out of his ears.

Multimouse was Marinette. Marinette is Ladybug. It was clear as day now, it just plain wasn’t possible that there were two people like that in the world, let alone three. He felt like such a moron. 

Marinette kissed him and he kissed Multmouse who was Marinette who was Ladybug and that he means he kissed Ladybug. Twice! Which, okay, he was in love with Marinette and always had been, and over the moon to have been kissing her, but he’d had some time to process that part and come on. Ladybug. If there was anyone in their age group who was attracted to girls who hadn’t fantasized about kissing Ladybug...well it was no one he’d ever met. Just nobody thought they’d ever actually get to, and he had, and that was kind of blowing his mind.

Juleka would be so jealous if she knew. 

Of course she hadn’t been wearing the masks at the time, or at least not that mask, but Luka didn’t care. He’d kiss Marinette in any mask or no mask and he’d wear any damn thing she wanted him to because he was madly, stupidly in love with her, and she was three times as amazing as he ever thought and he had a date with her tomorrow.

After years of silent pining and half-hearted attempts to move on...he had a date with Marinette. 

His hands were shaking.

Luka leaned his elbows on the tiny sink and grinned at himself in the mirror, shaking his head.

“You are one lucky bastard,” he muttered to his reflection, and laughed, giddy and breathless.

***

“What am I doing, Tikki?” Marinette breathed as she walked, briskly despite her nerves. “This is crazy. Right? Tell me this is crazy, Tikki.” 

“Love is always a little crazy, Marinette,” Tikki giggled, peeking up from Marinette’s purse. “Just give it a chance! For once it’s not the world at stake. And it’s just Luka.”

“Right,” Marinette muttered. “Just Luka, that I climbed all over yesterday and now he knows it was me and—”

“And thinking that he wanted you to meet him today just to reject you would be crazy,” Tikki teased, poking Marinette’s side. “I know it’s scary, Marinette, but this is the good scary! The normal scary! The exciting scary!”

Marinette smiled and put her hand in her purse to stroke Tikki’s head lightly. “Thanks, Tikki.” She promptly faltered a step and tripped. “Oh no, there he is. Just like he said he would be.”

“That’s a good thing, Marinette!” Tikki giggled.

Luka was leaning against the wall between the cafe door and the alley separating it from the next building, hands shoved in his pockets. His jean pockets, because he wasn’t wearing the hoodie that she had seen on him at nearly every encounter for three years, just a Kitty Section t-shirt that Marinette had made him.

And because she’d made it, it fit him perfectly. And without his hoodie, it left his arms mostly bare. Marinette whimpered quietly, cursing yesterday-Marinette for making her admiration of his arms so...obvious.

“You can do it, Marinette,” Tikki whispered, sinking lower into the purse. Marinette gulped in a deep breath and started walking again.

“Hi Luka,” she called as she got closer, “Hey, what a surprise, running into you like this! I was just, um, just out and about.” 

Luka looked up, giving her that same warm stare she’d last seen from masked green eyes, and a slow smile that made her skin tingle. “Hey Marinette. Fancy meeting you here. I was just thinking about getting a table to grab some lunch. His smile took on a cocky tilt that she had only rarely seen on him and for a moment she couldn’t decide if she was annoyed by it or something else entirely. “Care to join me? I hear they have great cheesecake here.”

Marinette stood, vibrating in indecision for just a moment. Luka’s eyes didn’t waver. 

Well, maybe it’s time you took a little chance then. He’s kinda put himself out there enough, don’t you think?

He was right. 

But first things first.

Marinette took a deep breath, steadied her nerves, and in a smoother motion than she would have thought she was capable of outside of the suit, she stepped up to him, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and swung him around into the alley entrance. “Woah,” he yelped, and then his eyes widened further as she planted a hand in the middle of his chest and pushed, backing him further down the (thankfully relatively clean) alley. Something in her face must have given him an inkling of her mood because he was slowly turning very red. 

She changed her angle to back him into the wall and kept advancing until she was chest to chest with him, looking up into his face. “Just so we’re clear,” she said, with only a little tremble in her voice though she could feel her hands starting to shake, “Nothing on this earth will save you if you breathe a word of what you think you know to anyone.” 

Luka’s eyes couldn’t get any wider. “Of course,” he gasped, breathlessly. “I wouldn’t, I would nev—mmph!” Marinette grabbed the back of his neck and jerked him down into a kiss that was harder than she meant it to be, just out of nerves. He must have liked it well enough, though, because he made the same noise he’d made yesterday when she kissed Viperion on her balcony. That sparked the memory of the look on his face afterwards, which made her giggle, and then she squeaked as he took advantage of her distraction and—wow, pulling him into the alley was a good decision because she did not want any witnesses to this.  

This was so much better without the suits, she realized giddily as he pulled her up flush against him. He made that noise again when her hands slid up over his shoulders and slipped into his hair. It felt amazing and she could have kissed him forever but there were things she still needed to say. 

Finally she put her hand on his shoulder, pushing lightly, and he stopped and drew back to look at her, lips red and hair even more tousled than usual, and Marinette was grateful he was still holding her because she wasn’t sure she could stand on her own at that point. 

“A little mouse told me you still had feelings for me,” Marinette whispered. “Is it true? Because I—” she continued in a rush before he could answer. “Because I definitely have feelings for you and if it’s not true that’s okay, but if it—if it is then maybe we could go have that cheesecake and if you’re free maybe we could go see a movie and—”

He cut her off with another kiss, and it was softer and slower, more tender, more like how she had always imagined Luka would kiss, but it was no less thrilling. 

“She also said you were a really good kisser,” Marinette added breathlessly when he drew back.  

“Yeah?” The corner of his mouth came up in a subtle smirk that she could definitely get used to seeing on him. 

“Yeah,” Marinette shrugged one shoulder, aware that her intense blush belied her unusually calm attitude. “So I guess I’m kinda hoping that since she was right about that,” Marinette dropped her eyes and rubbed two fingers against the fabric of his t-shirt, “Maybe she was right about the other thing too?” 

“If you mean the fact that I’m even more in love with you than I was the day you tripped into my room,” he lowered his forehead to rest on hers and took a shaky breath. “Then yeah, she was totally right. And that’s one secret I’m more than happy to be rid of.” 

“I’m sorry,” Marinette sighed, “For keeping you waiting so long, and then hesitating even when I knew what I wanted.”

Luka lifted one hand and brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek. “If you think I’m even the slightest bit dissatisfied right now then by all means, let me convince you I’m not.” His hand turned and cupped her cheek as he leaned in. Marinette put a finger on his chin and he paused. 

“So...about that cheesecake?” she smiled.

“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” he told her, and his eyes—she couldn’t look away. “Today and any day. Every day, if you want. Whatever I have to do to make this real, just tell me, I’m there.” 

Marinette smiled slowly. “Silly boy,” she said, letting her finger slide away from his chin. “It’s already real.” 

He looked at her with soft eyes, and his voice was warm and low as he said, “Then let’s go have some cheesecake and go watch a movie that, I’m going to warn you now, I have no intention of remembering.” His arm slid around her, pulling her close into his side, and she smiled. 

Luka smiled too as they strolled towards the cafe entrance together, not entirely convinced that his feet were touching the ground, and only the persistent pounding assured him his heart was still in his chest. 

Luka held open the cafe door for her and she smiled up at him. As she passed him, he took a cookie out of his pocket and slipped it into her purse. He wanted to make a good impression, after all, even if he wasn’t quite ready to tell Marinette he’d figured out more of her secrets than she realized.

@wickidjennie

[crescendonot]

“ i get no answers, so the question still remains - am i ever gonna see your face again ? “

introducing dali stratford as crescendo !

gday everyone !!! just a little about myself first and foremost, my name’s vic, i’m a 19 year old soon-to-be journalism student, and i’m from australia - now onto the important stuff ! this is miss dali stratford aka crescendo - here’s a couple real quick links to her full app / isolated full bio which i’ll be doing my best to summarise, and also her playlist and pinterest - now, let’s get going !

QUICK STATS !

full name: dali eleanor stratford known as: dali  gender & pronouns: cis female & she/her orientation: bisexual biromantic date of birth: april 18, 1984 age: twenty-two hometown: los angeles, california status: deceased

HISTORY !

dali was born the first and only unplanned daughter of jodie stratford, an aspiring costume designer who’d moved to los angeles from middlesbrough against her parents wishes in order to follow her dream. unable to contact her possible father, she decided to raise her alone in the tiny apartment she managed to make into a home.

even though she wasn’t conventionally ‘popular’ in school, she managed to get along with most of the other students, and spent most of her classes just talking to her classmates instead of working - mainly because she genuinely couldn’t do the work. she struggled with reading and writing since day one, but her teachers just sort of wrote her off as a disruption instead of trying to help her out - the root cause was visual dyslexia, but she never got diagnosed. 

jodie, instead of forcing her to keep going with work that obviously frustrated and upset her at home, allowed her to relax and focus on her passions - one of which was the music that she’d been raised on. when the rolling stones came through california with the voodoo lounge tour, she managed to scrounge together enough money for them to get tickets, and it ended up being the hands-down best night of her ten-year-old life. october 19, 1994 - the night that she decided that one day, she’d be a musician. 

her elementary school hadn’t had the funding needed for music classes, but her middle school did, and for the first time, dali was actually passionate about what she was learning. after experimenting a bit with each instrument, she finally settled on the electric guitar, and even though she couldn’t go off sheet music like everyone else, she dedicated all of her focus to memorising notes and chords through muscle memory. her mother bought her a second-hand guitar ( a 1972 competition fender mustang, orange ) for her eleventh birthday, and literally every spare moment dali had was spent practicing and memorising. 

on the night of her first proper performance, doing guitar and backing vocal for her music class group’s rendition of footloose for her school showcase, one of their lead singers dropped out last minute, and so her teacher asked her to fill in. without really thinking, she said yes - and the experience was incredible. before then, she’d only wanted to play music, but from then on, she knew that she would. 

forming a band was her biggest priority when she got to highschool - cadenza was an obvious choice, but it took a bit longer for her to properly ask ritenuto to join up. when they got to rehearsing, though, she knew her hesitation had been utterly unwarranted - killer conclusions, she knew for sure, was going to make it big. they were perfect. 

she didn’t end up graduating with high enough grades to go to college, but it wasn’t as if she’d been planning on going, so it really wasn’t that big a deal - afterall, it left her with plenty of free time to work, both for money ( having a position as a cleaner at a local stadium ) and on music for the band. when she, cadenza, and ritenuto decided to move into their own place, leaving jodie behind was heartbreaking, and on her final night in their apartment she silently vowed that to make up for all she’d done for her, she’d buy her mother her own house as soon as the band got big. 

the next few years of her life were solely dedicated to working, so when they finally got a call from someone at atlas, it was starting to feel like everything was paying off. the gig at club 2000 was more like a tech rehearsal than anything else, so when it went off perfectly, she came out of it feeling as if nothing could go wrong. 

and then it did.

coming back felt like stepping onto a final stair that isn’t really there. it was a terrifying experience, but once she got past the shock, dali was just angry. angry at the other driver, sure, but mostly, she was angry at herself for not just sabotaging her future, but getting her two best friends killed. right now, she’s really struggling to move past the fact she’d dead, and is still harbouring a lot of that guilt and anger - moving on isn’t much of a priority, not yet, not until she can somehow make things right. 

HEADCANONS !

dali was named after salvador dalí, but if she hadn’t been born a girl, jodie would’ve named her casper, a name that she’d loved since she was a kid - this would have been able to add a slightly ironic note of humour to the whole being-a-ghost situation, but tragically, chance doesn’t care for comedy. 

she’d always wanted to get plenty of tattoos, but she ended up dying with just the one - an angry-looking gamecock rooster on the back of her left shoulder, designed by her mother and chosen in honour of her childhood nickname, ‘chook’.

bill & ted’s excellent adventure is the first movie she remembers going to see at a cinema, and it’s still her favourite to this day, though it’s closely followed by baz luhrmann’s romeo + juliet, which also served as her bi awakening. 

though she probably could have upgraded at some point, the only guitar she’s ever happily called her own is her old orange fender mustang. 

born on the 18th of april, 1984, dali’s an aries sun, sagittarius moon, scorpio rising.

when she first decided she wanted to be part of a band when she was a kid, she was absolutely set on the name ‘the billy goats gruff’, and though she did eventually change her mind, one of her favourite jackets did have an angry-looking goat patch on it in honour of what could have been.

jodie had a policy of total honesty while raising her daughter, so dali grew to be a very honest person - occasionally, brutally so. because of this, she never really had a need to hide her feelings, either from others or herself, so with only a minute few exceptions, she’s pretty no holds barred about how she’s feeling. though her honesty can make her very harsh at times, it also gives her a certain earnesty when she says how much she loves those around her. 

when she was alive, dali was a genuinely good cook - she’d often have to make dinner for herself and her mother since jodie would work pretty late a lot of the time, and i like to think she would’ve cooked for the band when they got their own place. 

tall queen at 5′10″ 

big on the warm colours - reds, oranges, yellows, give her all of it. in terms of her fashion in general, she’s pretty much incapable of going monochrome, and always liked to spice things like her jackets up with a decent few patches. 

she doesn’t know who her father is, but with jodie being the incredible mother she was, she never really felt like she was missing anything. as of yet, she hasn’t been able to try and find out what happened to her mother. 

dali’s favourite genre is, obviously, rock, with some of her favourite bands being ac/dc, squeeze, the rolling stones, and queen ( to name a few ) but she’s not opposed to a bit of pop - abba holds a special place in her heart, and if she’d lived four more years she would’ve been a huge fan of mika when he took off in 2009. 

she’s always been a huge people person - whenever the band performed, she was literally incapable of not bantering with the audience at least a tiny bit. 

[cashmierathoughts]

Red Light Special

RED LIGHT SPEACIAL  (Short Story)

Allow me to preface this by saying, I’d never done coke before and I’d never kissed another woman before last night...

It was the end of the year and I let my roommate convince me to go out with her and her eccentric friends. I asked where to and all Maxine said was that we’d probably hit Deep Ellum and then a friends’ after set. It sounded like Max’s normal Monday through Saturday night to me; we have a strict policy on going out on Sunday nights, we don’t. We party during the day on Sundays and although I don’t get out nearly as much as her, I make it a point to participate in what we like to call “Sunday Funday”.

One of Max’s homegirls, Sam, owned a bar and was our liquor plug. She came over around seven and immediately started pouring drinks while Max and I were still getting dressed. I finished dressing before Max so I joined Sam in the kitchen for drinks. I prefer a cocktail over a shot simply because I have the worst gag reflex in all of Mesquite but Sam could care less; if she was pouring, it was shots for everyone. I took one or two or four and started rolling up. I was the only stoner in the group and I was thankful for that. Max finished getting dressed after changing a million times and then we headed out.

We hit a few bars and that’s when shit got interesting. Sam, Max, and I were leaving downtown and headed to one of Max’s friends’ house when he called her and gave her directions to a different party. By this time, I was feeling all ten shots of whatever was clear and strong and the choice to smoke backfired. Instead of mellowing me out, the weed started smoking me! I was in the backseat having the dizziest most carefree time of my life as I grinded and twerked on the leather interior of Max’s beamer.

Her car came to an abrupt halt and she lowered the music and called the mystery friend back.

“Hey, we’re outside. What’s the phrase again? Okay. Here we come.”

What phrase was she talking about? Looking back, that should have been my first clue that some unusual shit was about to happen.

We parked and walked up to a building no bigger than Starbucks and were approached by a lady wearing fishnets and a leotard. She took our phones, gave us a locker key with the number 86 written on it, then led us to the basement of the building. I could hear low music thudding through the walls as we got closer to our destination. When we got downstairs I knew exactly where we were. Max was a frequent flyer here.

The room was sectioned off by different colored lights. There was a red, blue, purple, and green room.

I quickly observed that I was indeed at a swingers’ party.

My hands were clammy and I could feel myself sobering up. I had two options: either I was going to drink and smoke my way back to zen or I was going to catch a Lyft back home. There was no way Max and Sam were leaving and I wouldn’t dare ask. Fuck, I should have driven.

I stuck close by Max like white on rice. We went in the green room first. I was attracted to it for two important reasons. One being that green is my favorite color and the other is that the closer we got to the green light, I could see marijuana shrubs. It was literally a green room. The shrubs were the least of the most visually captivating things happening in that room. Did I mention that we were clearly overdressed for the occasion? Women were either in lace and satin lingerie or nothing at all. The men were mostly clothed in cigar robes, if anything at all. I was extremely intimidated.

I pulled on Max’s arm, “Girl why you ain’t tell me you was on this tonight? You know I don’t even be with the shits.”

To be honest, I was too intrigued to be maintain an attitude. There was so much to see.

A bold black hand with an even bolder wedding band reached my way and passed me an unsolicited blunt. I looked to see who the hand belonged to but I didn’t know that man. He was barely making eye contact with me; probably because his other hand was between the thighs of some woman and his tongue was down her throat. I had no choice but to take the blunt or let him pass it to Casper and set the whole building on fire. I hit the blunt and leaned up against a small space on the wall, hoping to evaporate into the drywall. The weed was damn good. I felt relaxed immediately and then my mind got to wandering.

I looked around and noticed that my friend who shared the blunt with me wasn’t the only person on the verge of fucking in that room. In fact, there were people actually fucking in that room. I was starting to blush. The weed was making me horny too. I hit it some more and then stared at a couple in front of me go at it. I watched as his penis moved strategically in and out of some lady’s vagina. She had on a wedding band, he didn’t. I could feel my head tilt as I gazed at them and wondered when I’d feel raw dick again…

I was brought back to my senses when I felt a small hand grab mine. It was Max.

She took me across the hall to a different room. The red room. Sam was sitting on a sofa topless with her shirt saving one seat for Max and her clutch saving one for me. I’d seen Sam’s breasts more than plenty times before so I wasn’t as shocked as I should have been, plus, did I mention that weed was really, really strong?

We both plopped down on the couch and at that moment, I realized how fucked up I was. The room started spinning and my first thought was to focus all my energy and attention on not seeming as fucked up as I was. So when Max and Sam were talking to me, I was telling my drunk self to not look drunk and I missed everything they said. I only remember nodding yes to them and saying, “Daammmn, that’s crazy” at the end. Go figure.

A light skinned, middle aged man with a beer gut and premature penis walked buck naked toward us and stopped. He never made eye contact with any of us. He just stood there and looked at Sam’s boobs. The weed had me stuck like chuck. I couldn’t strum up a good cuss out for the nigga. Sam started to rub on her breasts and put on a show for the stranger. She caressed them and in return, the preemie penis grew into a pretty decent half chub. Like I said earlier, the weed from the green room made me super horny. Pheromones were flying blindly all throughout that room and I was caught in its crossfire.

Max leaned behind Sam to get my attention and disrupted my show.

“Come sit down here.”

I went. 

“Ex-squeeze me...” I slid over Sam and sat in between her and Max.

Max got her palm mirror and Big C out. Her night was just beginning while mine, on the other hand, was heading towards its end.

She leaned over and asked, “Want some?”

I gave her that look you give someone when they know the answer to some unbelievable shit they just asked or brought up. I like my drugs and I don’t judge, but the Big C, ain’t fo me... or so I thought. Before I could turn Max down, I saw a drink being shoved in my face. A woman in red latex chaps with her ass completely bare and titties to match was passing out drinks. I took the one she gave me and handed it to Max, who then shoved it right back in my face and urged me to drink.

It didn’t take much convincing on her end. I downed something that I could only guess was some version of a cognac and coke. I was still feeling drowsy. Without even asking, I grabbed Max’s mirror and went to town. As I dragged my nose across the cold and shiny pallet, I instantly regretted my sudden act of bad-assery. Thinking back, the shit was completely unnecessary. 

When I came up and looked around, I expected to immediately feel wiry and freakishly energized. I didn’t. A grinning Max pulled my face close to hers and gave me a sloppy and unsolicited kiss on the cheek. I squeezed my eyes shut when she did this and when I opened them, I saw the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in real life. She was leaning on the bar wearing a designer birthday suit and stiletto heels. Max was talking a mile a minute in my ear about how she got stood up tonight and how she wanted to go home, but for some reason now, I wasn’t in such a rush.

“Dammnn, that’s crazy.” I managed to mutter.

Our naked friend in the red chaps returned to our end of the couch with a single glass of champagne. She handed it to me then walked away, leaving a squeaking sound trailing behind her. The woman at the bar intentionally caught my eye this time and raised a glass identical to mine in the air. I matched the energy and went over to talk to her.

That’s when Big C kicked in. I could feel myself tweaking. Almost as if I had a tick. I took a huge gulp of champagne to calm my nerves and the closer I got to the bar, the more confident I grew. She was a little taller than me, had a cinnamon skin tone and almond eyes to match; older too. Said her name was Amber. I think she lied. Hell, I lied.

I quickly learned that this wasn’t the type of place where there was much talking being done. I looked back at the couch for some reassurance and saw that Sam was getting her ass eaten on the sofa while Max was headed towards a curtained room with some couple sharing a satin pajama set. The man had on the bottoms and the woman had on the button down top to match, only she purposely left several buttons open, leaving her breasts nude and exposed.

Amber asked me to join her behind a curtain of our own.

I did.

“How old are you?”

I hesitated. My heart was racing, my thoughts were loud, my body was doing things I didn’t authorize it to do, and that damn twitch was back, which was so unfucking-becoming of me.

“Twenty-three.”

Amber scoffed and said, “Old enough”.

We went behind the curtain and started to kiss. They started off as soft, hesitant kisses. She removed the straps from my shirt and let them hang lazily on my shoulders and I felt something cold graze my skin.

A FAT ASS DIAMOND. She was married too.

I didn’t say anything and I’d hoped that she didn’t notice me noticing her ring. Our once childish pecks were now maturing into heavy Frenching. Kissing a woman felt more natural than I thought it would. Her tongue danced with mine and we took turns leading. Amber leaned me back and started to give my nipple piercing attention with the tip of her tongue.

“Just one?’, she laughed.

“I bitched out. The shit hurts!” I laughed back.

I didn’t know what she expected to happen next. I was new to this, definitely not true to it and I didn’t care how fucked up I felt, there was no way I could dine on vagina. I just won’t.

My thoughts were dismantled when I felt her cool hand creep up the inside of my thigh. I trembled and could feel my pussy slightly gush. She moved my panties to the side and slowly rubbed two fingers back and forth. I could feel the grooves in her acrylic against my vulva as she applied the right amounts of pressure on my clit and the extra tension turned me on. I let out a soft moan and felt my thighs getting wet.

Amber removed her fingers from inside of me and placed them in her mouth. My jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe any of this was actually happening and had I not woken up with the worst hangover of my life this morning and a stamp from Deep Ellum, I wouldn’t have.

When she took her fingers out of her mouth, she spit out her wedding ring and put it on the tip of her index finger. She removed my panties completely and started tasting me. I felt something cold massaging my clit in sync with her tongue. It went back and forth. I could feel her soft lips kiss and slurp. My body convulsed and I let out what I tried to maintain as the most excruciating quiet noise of arrival.

I was delirious.

Amber sat up, wiped her face with her palm, and kissed me. I felt something sharp touch my lip when they touched. I opened my eyes and Amber spit out her wedding ring and whispered, “Bye, Riley.” 

She got up and headed towards the curtain and disappeared back into the dark red room. 

THE END

[certaincollections]

Through her radio show, Living Wealthy Radio, she is able to share her passion for learning the real truth about how money works with others. She has counseled thousands of ordinary Americans across the nation, helping them avoid exposing their wealth to eroding factors,

Using the unique cornerstone of Bank On Yourself, Teresa enables clients to take charge of their own money. Through proven and time-tested safe money strategies, Teresa and her team provide creative solutions that enable clients to remain financially sound through every life event.

[puppyandrade]

SORAYA BARBOSA-NAZARI

GENERAL INFORMATION

Born in Malta, on Psamathe, Soraya is a 27 year-old make-up artist who has been working on the Apex Games since their creation. She was raised among the rich elite of her planet and has always managed to get what she wanted thanks to her parents' connections — though both of them were extremely disappointed to see her choose to work in the hair and make-up department of the Games. She started low in the food chain but has risen to the top and recently become the Head of the Hair and Make-up Department. Soraya is also known to get involved in the designing of costumes for certain Legends, like Loba and Rampart.

PERSONALITY

"An enthusiastic and stubborn sweetheart who doesn't let anyone step on her feet". This how many of Soraya's colleagues perceive her, and it's extremely close to be exactly what she is. For most things in life, Soraya tries her best to be optimistic and to spread positivity around her, even if it can he complicated when you work at the Games, where people chase each other, guns in hands.

Soraya is known around most of the cosmetic departments of the Games as a very kind and generous person who can appreciate a good joke — good jokes, as well as the bad puns Wattson can come up with. Her smile and laughter are contagious. But the hair and make-up department also knows her as someone who can be strict and demanding when it comes to respecting schedules; Soraya is a kind boss, but she is a boss who wants things to be perfect. She can be a friend to co-workers, but she remains the Head of the department, something that she refuses to let others forget just because she is understanding and nice.

APPEARANCE

In spite of a personality that can appear imposing to many while Soraya is at work, she is far from having an imposing physique. She is a petite woman, not even visibly taller than Wraith, but she wears heels so often that she can fool people into thinking she's taller than she actually is. Soraya is a put together person who makes sure to look nothing short of perfect whenever she gets out of her apartment. She takes great care of her appearance, as her job relies solely on looks. Her go-to make-up is a natural look, but she will never be spotted outside without it.

Soraya has an unexpectedly toned body. Most people don't realize how much effort she puts in her looks and health. She has had to work out a lot to be able to put up with her crazy schedule and her late fiancé, and she has created a workout routine for herself that she enjoys. Soraya doesn't have the rippling muscles of a Legend, but she still manages to impress some people with her biceps.

In spite of an attractive and toned physique, her defining features remain her high cheekbones and strong jawline — many say that her light green eyes are what caught their attention the most. Soraya takes great care of her naturally tan skin and keeps her wavy black hair shoulder length, as it is easier to maintain it on a tight schedule.

FAME & GLORY

Soraya doesn't need to be a Legend and participate in the Games to be famous among fans (as well as the general population). With her father, Barbosa, being the CEO of a company responsible for the creation and production of weapons of all sorts, and her mother being a renown journalist, it is no surprise that she would have gathered attention. But while her parents' fame is partly to blame, the main reason why Soraya's name can be seen on TV and in magazines, is her former relationship with a man more famous than her parents. The fame has allowed Soraya to become Head of her department faster than she would have, had she been a nobody, but she often catches herself thinking that she would rather nobody knows her name. She is tired of being "the draughter of" and "the ex-fiancée of". Fame is nice, but Soraya would rather be her own person.

JAMES "THE FORGE" MCCORMICK

Rocky would be the perfect word to describe a large part of Soraya's relationship with Forge, but nonetheless, she loved the man, in spite of his many faults. Their meeting was far from romantic, as she was introduced to him by her father, a fan of his combat skills and a firm believed that he could offer "The Forge" a great sponsorship. Soraya thought that he was an arrogant jerk (she wasn't wrong), and he thought she was a spoiled brat (he wasn't exactly right). But Soraya was surprised to find that Forge was a man who could treat her like an equal, and not a rich little girl whose feelings needed to be spared — it led them go on several dates together, dates that were, of course, made known to the public. When Forge didn't deny being the source of the rumors, Soraya decided to break things off with Forge.

They found their way back together several months later, after it was revealed that her father was the one who had revealed to several news outlets that she was seeing Forge. They had many arguments about Forge covering Soraya's father being a shitty person to spare her feelings, something that Forge had never done, something that had made Soraya enjoy his company in the first place. They got engaged two years laters. Not too long after, another event almost broke up their relationship: the revelation of Forge's treatment of Bangalore. Soraya thought that his macho attitude was just an act for the public, as Forge had assured her so often throughout their relationship, and the reveal felt an absolute betrayal. It was the fact that The Forge himself swallowed his pride to apologize to her and promise that he would apologize to Bangalore that convinced her to stay.

Sadly, Forge's life was ended brutally, under her eyes, before they could even plan their wedding.

[ RELATIONS WITH LEGENDS UNDER ]

BANGALORE

Because of their link to Forge, Soraya and Bangalore had very tense moments. Until Forge was announced as a future Legend and Bangalore revealed how he treated her, they weren't particularly close or distant, but they later had arguments. Bangalore believed that Soraya was just a naive kid and a jealous girlfriend who couldn't handle the truth, while Soraya thought that Bangalore was unnecessarily rude to her over what her fiancé had done. They have found ways to communicate with each other, and Bangalore is impressed with how much Soraya wants to believe in redemption and see good in people. They have grown close to each other and have built a mutual trust and admiration.

BLOODHOUND

Because of Bloodhound's mask, those two don't really have reasons to spend time together. Bloodhound remains one of Soraya's favorite Legends in the Games, and they are someone that Soraya respects. They have brief but amicable conversations when Soraya helps the costume department.

CAUSTIC

Soraya has only worked with Caustic once. Since then, she has refused to take care of him. Being optimistic by nature, Soraya can't handle Caustic's scientific views on humans — she admires his brains, but she would rather be as far away from him as possible.

CRYPTO

They don't get along, and they don't not get along. Soraya doesn't often work with Crypto, but when she does, they know how to enjoy each other company in silence. Crypto doesn't care much for her, but he likes that she can do his hair and make-up without desperately trying to initiate a conversation like some of the other make-up artists do.

GIBRALTAR

Because he's a giant, sweet teddy bear, Gibby reminds Soraya of both her father and her maternal grandfather — both being two men that she loves with her whole heart. She rarely gets to work with him, but she really likes him, and she always makes time to talk to him, even if for just a minute, and wish him good luck before games. Gibby appreciates Soraya for her optimism and kindness, as well as their common need to see the good in people (even those that might not deserve it).

HORIZON

Horizon hasn't been around long enough for Soraya to have a proper opinion of her, but she is definitely intimidated by her intelligence. Soraya struggles to understand Horizon's accent a lot of the time and spends too much time asking her to repeat herself (until she gives up and pretends to have understood Horizon). From what she knows, Horizon is a good person and she can't wait to get to know her better.

LIFELINE

The first Legend Soraya worked with. Lifeline will always have a special place in her heart — she made her feel comfortable and at ease from the start. Soraya loves working with Lifeline more than anything else because it just feels easy, no matter how complex things can get when it comes to makeup. Her favorite thing is to compliment Lifeline on how pretty she is and to thank her for taking such good care of her skin, unlike some other Legends. They can enjoy chill conversations pre-games and sometimes even hang out outside the Games for a restaurant "date".

LOBA

Refusing to let anyone do her make-up because she couldn’t trust them, Loba originally avoided the hair and make-up department staff, but Soraya’s (very expensive) engagement ring caught her attention. While she only wanted to steal said ring and started to act friendly towards Soraya for that reason, Loba grew attached fairly quickly. The two of them now love their (not so) playful flirting and are unnecessarily touchy with each other all the time. No matter how much they appreciate each other, neither of them thinks that they can, or should, allow things between them to grow any further — though for the most part, it is Loba being worried for Soraya’s safety and believing that a thief isn’t good enough for ray-of-sunshine Soraya.

MIRAGE

Theoretically, Mirage and Soraya should get along well. Things aren’t bad between them, and Soraya loves that Mirage can be eccentric and enjoy crazy costumes and styling, but their personalities aren’t as compatible as some would expect. Mirage’s self-confidence can easily get on Soraya’s nerves, and Soraya’s strict work policies are far from being something that Mirage likes. 

OCTANE

As a Legend, Soraya absolutely loves Octane and his constant excitement and his daredevil attitude. As someone to work with, Soraya absolutely hates Octane. He can't sit still for more than three seconds and it makes it really hard for her to do her job — but she has figured out ways to keep him still enough, by telling him about all the new explosives and crazy weapons her father has been working on.

PATHFINDER

For obvious reasons, Pathfinder doesn’t require hair and make-up time, so they don’t get many opportunities to hang out. Pathfinder calls Soraya his friend, and she calls him her friend in return because she knows that it makes him happy. They have brief conversations in the corridors of the ships 

RAMPART

They have been on a first name basis since the day they met, even if they aren't the closest of friends. Soraya respects how strong Rampart is and her modder brains, being constantly impressed by her. Rampart isn't a big fan of the make-up team because they all can be fussy, but at least Soraya knows weapons and they can talk before matches. Just like with Horizon, though, Rampart's accent often leaves Soraya confused.

REVENANT

It's safe to say that everyone at the Games tries hard to make sure that Soraya won't end up in the same room as Revenant, or even see him in a corridor.

WATTSON

Nothing can ever stop Soraya from thinking that Wattson is an absolute sweetheart and an angel. They don't have deep and long conversations or anything of the like. Whenever Soraya works on Wattson's make-up, she just listens to her ramble about all her inventions. It's quiet and relaxed for the both of them. Soraya occasionally flirts with Wattson because she thinks that she's adorable when she gets flustered. They love to share jokes and puns together.

WRAITH

It took a while for Soraya to be able to approach Wraith, as there was no trust between the two of them. It took months of trying for Soraya to be able to approach Wraith, but they are finally going somewhere. They spend most of their time together simply quiet and enjoying silence. They have a mutual understanding: no personal questions, no long conversations.

[certaincollections]

On this episode, Jake and Gino interview Dave Zook. Dave Zook is a successful business owner and an experienced real estate investor, active in Multi-Family Apartments, Self-Storage and the ATM space.

Dave has acquired more than $100 million worth of real estate since 2010. At the time of this writing, he and his investors own approximately 3000 multi-family apartment units.

[lilahdesignforperformance]

PRECEDENT WORKS

Precedent works related to current performance proposal 1/5

The Mending Project - Lee Mingwei

The Mending Project is an interactive conceptual installation in which they use very simple elements—thread, colour, sewing—as points of departure for gaining insights into the relationships among self, other, and immediate surroundings. It also constitutes an act of sharing between Lee Mingwei and a stranger.

Visitors initially see a long table, two chairs and a wall of colourful cone-shaped spools of thread. During gallery hours, Lee is seated at that table, to which visitors could bring various damaged textile articles, choose the colour of thread they wish, and watch as he mends the article. The mended article, with thread ends still attached, is then placed on the table along with previously mended items. Owners return to the gallery to collect their mended articles on the last day of the exhibition.

The act of mending takes on emotional value as well, depending on how personal the damaged item is, e.g., a favourite shirt vs. an old but little-used tablecloth. This emotional mending is marked by the use of thread which is not the colour of the fabric around it, and often colourfully at odds with that fabric, as though to commemorate the repair. Unlike a tailor, who will try to hide the fact that the fabric was once damaged, Lee Mingwei’s mending is done with the idea of celebrating the repair, as if to say, “something good was done here, a gift was given, this fabric is even better than before.”

Precedent works related to current performance proposal 2/5

Article 14.1 - Phuong Ngo

Amid the polarity of debate about Australia’s refugee policy, too rarely do we hear the voices of refugees themselves. In Article 14.1, artist Phuong Ngo gives voice to those who flee persecution, focussing on the experience of Vietnamese refugees seeking asylum in Australia, following the fall of Saigon. The title refers to Article 14.1 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, which states: ‘Everyone has the right to seek and to enjoy in other countries asylum from persecution.’

The artist’s own history is deeply rooted in the refugee experience, and he pays respect to this heritage by occupying the gallery for the ten-day duration of the exhibition, while subsisting on the same meagre supplies his family survived on in their journey. Phuong Ngo, seated at a small table at the front of the gallery, quietly folds small origami boats from ‘Hell Bank Notes’, a form of paper currency that is traditionally burnt as an offering to the dead. The audience are invited to remove their shoes and sit at one of eight red tables.

On each table a short video loops on a tablet, demonstrating the art of making the paper boats. Visitors are invited to fold their own boats while listening to recordings of refugees’ intensely personal stories of their journey to a new life in Australia. The origami boats will be burnt at a ceremony on May 11; the stories are moving and intimate. In one, we hear of a refugee, then 17 years old, who tried on twenty separate occasions to escape by boat. Only three times did he actually board, with his money usually stolen by scammers who then notified authorities of his attempt to flee, resulting in him being jailed. In another, we hear of a parent’s sleepless nights before deciding to make a dangerous journey with a five-year-old child.Sadly, we also hear the untold stories of those that didn’t make the journey.

The act of folding the small, paper boats creates a deep sense of communion with refugees’ stories as they are told. The artist has cleverly engaged the audience in this meditative act, busying the hands while the mind is focussed solely on these compelling tales of hope and loss. Much like how sharing a meal can allow difficult conversation to flow, involving the audience in this simple, shared act breaks down the barriers between the subject, the artwork and the viewer. Paradoxically, the mind is distracted so that the story may be heard. The design of the performance space also plays its role, with the red tables, stools and rugs channelling the warmth of community and family, universal themes in the refugee story.

Phuong Ngo has created a vital reminder that such rights do not apply to particular groups, countries or peoples as a whole, but to mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers, who each have their own important story to tell. This performance seamlessly melds recorded narrative and performance into a compelling exploration of the refugee experience.

Precedent works related to current performance proposal 3/5

One Year Performance 1980-1981 (Time Clock Piece) - Tehching Hsieh

For one year, from 11 April 1980 through 11 April 1981, Tehching Hsieh punched a time clock every hour on the hour. Each time he punched the clock, he took a single picture of himself with a 16mm movie camera, which together yield a 6-minute film animation. He shaved his head before the piece, so his growing hair reflects the passage of time. Taiwanese-born performance artist subjected himself to an extraordinary ordeal of sleep deprivation in a relentless quest to investigate the nature of time and methodically observe time’s passing.

One Year Performance 1980-1981, which opened at Sydney’s Carriageworks on Tuesday, displays the documentary evidence of that work: 365 punch cards, 365 film strips, showing an increasingly long-haired and bleary-eyed Hsieh, the plain grey uniform he wore, a 16mm movie he made, compressing the year into six minutes, witness statements attesting to his strict routine and the time clock.

For Hsieh, Time Clock Piece — as the work documented in the Carriageworks installation is informally known — recalls the labours of Sisyphus, who, in Greek mythology, was forced to roll a rock repeatedly up a mountain, only to watch it fall down again. And while it may seem to convey a message about the tedium and conformity of industrial labour, he tells Guardian Australia he is “not a political artist, although people are at liberty to interpret my work from a political standpoint … I’m interested in the universal circumstances of human life”.

Time is the common thread running through the five one-year performances, all of which involved extreme physical and psychological challenges. For Cage Piece, Hsieh spent 12 months in near-solitary confinement in a cage he built in his studio, furnished only with a bed, a blanket, a sink and a pail, banned (by himself) from talking, reading, writing, listening to the radio or watching TV.

All have been intensely personal projects, probing questions of existence and the human condition. For Time Clock, Hsieh — who was an illegal immigrant during his first 14 years in the US, jumping ship in 1974 from an oil tanker in Philadelphia — set himself the task of never sleeping or leaving his studio for more than 59 minutes. “It was like being in limbo, just waiting for the next punch,” he recalls.

Shaving his head at the outset, and photographing himself each time he punched the clock, he missed just 133 clock-ins, mostly because of sleeping through, despite arming himself with an especially loud alarm clock. The single frames he shot with a movie camera later became the film, in which each day is compressed into one second.

Precedent works related to current performance proposal 4/5

While Nothing Happens - Ernesto Neto

Tubes of Lycra netting filled with spices hang from a glass ceiling in a soft sculpture called ‘While nothing Happens’ by Brazilian artist Ernesto Neto. The aromatic socks are suspended from the glass ceiling at the Macro Hall gallery in Rome, Italy. The interactive installation was designed to stir up memories of such things as travel and of one’s past. As visitors brush up against the spicy drops, some of which are only a few feet from the floor, the exotic fragrances mingle and fill the air.

Brazilian artist Ernesto Neto (Rio de Janiero, Brazil, 1964) He has adopted a new approach to the work, drawing on its visual appeal and alluring aromas, and making it a plastic place which, in its interaction with the gallery, offers visitors an intimate, meditative place to collect themselves. While Nothing Happens, is a fragrant, fluctuating installation suspended in the air and containing five ground, coloured spices: black pepper, cumin, cloves, ginger, and turmeric. Juxtaposing materials and spaces, colours and smells, Neto has created a work that calls on a viewer’s every sense, breaking down the distances between art and life, and creating “an art that unites and that helps us interact with others, showing us the limits, not as a wall but as a place of sensations, exchanges, and continuity.”

The piece was specially created for the macro hall in rome and forms a floating architecture as its hangs from the gallery’s glass roof. the piece hangs at its lowest one meter from the ground. ‘while nothing happens’ is made from a lycra netting which is filled with a variety of ground spices that form stalagmite like forms. the spices emit an aroma that is further enhanced by visitors interacting with the piece. the smell is designed to evoke memories as we interact with the sculpture.

Precedent works related to current performance proposal 5/5

Shrink - Lawrence Malstaf

The work of Lawrence Malstaf is situated on the borderline between the visual and the theatrical. He develops installation and performance art with a strong focus on movement, coincidence, order and chaos, and immersive sensorial rooms for individual visitors. He also creates larger mobile environments dealing with space and orientation, often using the visitor as a co-actor. His projects involve physics and technology as a point of departure or inspiration and as a means for activating installations. His work SHRINK consists of two large, transparent plastic sheets and a device that gradually sucks the air out from between them, leaving the body vacuum-packed and suspended. The transparent tube inserted between the two surfaces allows the person inside the installation to regulate the flow of air. As a result of the increasing pressure between the plastic sheets, the surface of the packed body gradually freezes into multiple micro-folds. For the duration of the performance the person inside moves slowly and changes positions. 

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