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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years ago

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The Demon Bros Play DND!

Who’s ready for some Stupid Headcanons?

So, the Satanic Panic of the 1980s claimed that the tabletop RPG known as Dungeons and Dragons had the power to turn your children into satanists and devil worshippers. So of course, the brothers have totally played DND after hearing about all the human world nonsense.

Lucifer the Back-up Back-up DM

He’s too busy to play this game dammit, stop inviting him! What do you mean both Satan and Simeon can’t DM the one-shot? Ugh... fine.

Despite all his UUUUUUUUGGGGHHH, Lucifer is a damn good storyteller, prepare to be immersed as hell.

Also, sorry guys, he’s a rule whore. If something’s against the rules, YOU AREN’T DOING IT.

He’s also a complete sadist who will randomly get everyone to roll perception checks for NO REASON.

Lucifer has definitely stood up and slammed his hands on the table while giving a description for extra effect, Mammon screamed and nearly fell out of his seat which REALLY ruined the mood.

“Everyone, we’re rescheduling, I’m too busy.”

He’s been a player a few times, and he’s NOT good at it. All his characters end up being really generic and boring. He’s better at being the world and everything in it, not the dummy wandering around it.

Human/fighter lookin’ motherfucker

In conclusion, he’s a good DM, but he’s probably too busy to play.

Over-Powered Self Insert (Mammon)

This game is for nerds! He’s not playin’, Levi!

Fine, his character is great and amazin’ and is also him. MC! What do these numbers mean-

Mammon’s the type of player to make his character a self insert and not take it too seriously, then get really REALLY attached as the campaign progresses.

He’s the type not to make a backstory for his character either, so go wild DM MCs!

He also both purposefully and accidentally metagames a whole bunch. Like dude, YOU know this, YOUR CHARACTER DOES NOT.

Shit he forgot his dice, can he borrow some?

“Okay MC, that’s five points of piercing damage.” “I RUN OVER AND HEAL THEM! I’LL SAVE YA MC!”

Mammon goes out of his way to save MC’s character long before it would make sense in-character to do so.

“Well, as your first man it’s my duty to save your character! You’ll probably be a blubberin’ mess if I didn’t...”

He’s not the best role player, but he’s also not the worst at it either. He tends to break character when things get too serious and he doesn’t know what to do.

Notes who? He came in here with one sheet of printer paper and it’s for doodling only.

He and Asmodeus start the tavern brawls. No question about that.

Theft is very common, he’s stealing from everyone, including but not limited to: the party, the royal guards, the dead enemies, the giant fuck-you dragon that Satan dropped in there to deter Mammon from stealing...

“I’m gonna steal that crown from the dragon.” “Roll stealth.” “Nat 20 BITCHES.” “Fuck you.”

If his character dies, may the Demon King have mercy on his greedy little soul because he’s going to mope about it for a damn long time.

Over-Powered Self Insert Again (Leviathan)

His character totally isn’t a self insert, shut up! He just looks and acts like an idealized version of himself!

He’s the one with twenty pages of character info and backstory AND the amazing commissioned art.

Levi has about 40 sets of expensive blue dice that he claims gives him the best rolls but an average session with him usually leads to roughly 10 crit fails.

While his luck with dice isn’t that good, he’s the player who will get as much out of their turn as possible, AKA break out the calculators and notes we’re doing some math.

His turn goes on for at least ten minutes because of all the shit he’s doing. When you finally think it’s over he goes “I still have my movement!”

Takes notes like a madman, every bit of lore and character info is being written down, meaning it’s a headache for everyone involved if there’s a continuity error because Levi WILL point it out.

“So you all head to the east, the great Valley of-” “Hang on, valley? In the second session you said there was a mountainous area to the east.” “Levi, shut up.”

Levi is the self appointed “guys come on let’s get back on track!” player, and whoever’s DMing is grateful to have him.

Levi is kind of the opposite of Mammon in terms of character seriousness, at first he’s taking everything super seriously and then as the campaign goes on he slowly loosens up and has some fun.

Out of curiosity one day he searches up a magical girl DND class and he’s ALL OVER IT. PLEASE LET HIM BE A MAGICAL GIRL NEXT CAMPAIGN-

Damn good at roleplaying, he’s carrying the entire in-character discussion until everyone else gets into it.

The Done With Your Bullshit DM (Satan)

So, this is the game that’s supposedly summoning him all the time despite the fact that he hadn’t been up to the human world since the 50s... what the fuck is everyone on up there?

It was the 80s, probably a lot of drugs.

When Satan DMs, you can only break the rules if it enhances the story... or if it fucks with Lucifer’s really boring character.

He will fudge dice rolls every once and a while, he also gets very attached to the characters everyone has made so he doesn’t want to perma-kill any of them unless they roll a DND quadruple natural 1 sin or something.

As attached as he gets, he isn’t above completely raging, killing everyone’s characters, and ending the session if everyone’s being annoying.

Don’t worry, your characters will be safe and sound next session once everything calms down... just don’t mention how Satan burned your character sheet right in front of you. It’s your fault if you didn’t make a second copy of your character sheet!

He’s pretty decent when it comes to improv when a player stumbles into something he didn’t plan out, but that’s not going to stop him from getting a little annoyed.

Though, if you somehow manage to get to the big bad too soon... yeah sorry, he’s got a way more dramatic fight scene planned, your player’s getting conveniently blasted out of there.

As a player, Satan is pretty decent at the game overall, but he tends to be a little aggressive if there’s an overarching mystery to be solved.

He needs to understand what’s going on! He doesn’t care if it upends the plot or it’s too early to find out! He needs to know!

His character is actually distinct and different from himself, Satan thinks it’s more interesting that way. All the books he’s read have made him a pretty awesome role player!

Satan’s notebook both as a DM and a player is filled to the brim, no detail is too insignificant to be put on the page.

Satan doesn’t fear dungeon puzzles... dungeon puzzles fear Satan.

“Are you all stupid?! This puzzle is so easy a four year old could solve it!”

I ROLL TO SEDUCE- (Asmodeus)

At first he didn’t want to play, he doesn’t play these kinds of games, sweetie. He’s too pretty.

When he’s finally convinced he puts a decent amount of effort into his character, but leaves the backstory pretty open.

Asmo would probably be the bard... right? No. He’s the warlock with the magic sugar daddy patron, and the warlock patron is spoken to as such.

“Hey baby... how’ve you been? Have I been good~?” “...”

Huh! Who woulda thought that all the bedroom roleplaying would transfer so well to DND!

Simeon is the only DM that doesn’t immediately shut this down, so Asmo will be extra inclined to play if Mr. Nice Shoulders is DMing.

When he gets really into it he buys a bunch of sparkly and very pretty dice, they bring him good luck in every roll!

Asmo has a fictional harem, no question about it. It gets to the point where Satan, Lucifer, and Simeon stop describing NPCs as attractive.

He’s rolling to seduce either way, he’s turned many an antagonist into a lover. To be fair, Asmo’s horniness has gotten everyone out of a lot of jail cells... so they can’t complain.

His notes consist of really random comments about the plot and the other players. It’s also COATED with doodles.

‘Wow, this character is such an asshole, I hope Belphie kills them.’ ‘Shit.’ ‘MC looks so cute when they play their character!!!!!!!! :D’

Poor bab forgets the rules a lot... it’s just too much to remember, okay?! How was he supposed to know that he ran out of spell slots an hour ago?!

Please help him, MC...

*Dice Cronch* (Beel)

Homeboy has been given edible dice, no question. He has also eaten the non-edible dice...

Beel goes to Satan for help with making his character, and he ends up really loving the character! :D

Problem is, he’s not that good at roleplaying... D:

“Can my character eat that person?” “Beel, no- you know what? Let me check what you’d need to roll to do that.”

I’ll save you MC part 2 electric boogaloo, but when it comes to Beel, the entire party is getting protected, no matter how little it makes sense in-character.

While Beel does take notes, a lot of them don’t end up being very important for later events. For example, he’ll jot down stuff about the layout in one room, but it turns out he didn’t take notes for the room that was actually going to be used for a boss fight.

He’s always nice to the NPCs, shame Belphie doesn’t show them the same courtesy.

Murder Hobo (Belphie)

Chaotic evil.

“Belphie, your character’s alignment is neutral good, remember?” “Fuck that, this guy’s annoying me.”

If Belphie doesn’t like an NPC, it’s up to the rest of the party to stop him from derailing the campaign and killing them.

He has space themed dice because cow-man likes space and thought they were pretty.

Notes? NOTES? You think Belphegor, the Avatar of SLOTH, takes notes? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-

He’s drooling all over the notebook... ew. Someone wake him up and tell him it’s his turn.

He puts about 35% effort forth to make a halfway decent character, and approximately 4% effort to actually roleplay.

Belphie sleeps through important plot details so he’s almost always really confused. He’ll turn to MC and ask them to explain what he missed before not learning his lesson and going back to sleep.

Wake him up for the dungeon puzzles though, he and Satan love those.

“Okay, we can’t see what’s in the room because none of the conscious party members have dark vision?” “Nope, what do you do?” “...I shove Mammon inside and shut the door.” “WHAT?!”

Bonus! The Best DM (Simeon)

Our favourite angel has homebrewed this entire campaign and boy fricken howdy are these players going to enjoy it.

Simeon fudges the dice rolls to avoid anything too irreversibly bad happening, buuuuuuut he’s still a total asshole who does the random perception rolls to keep everyone on their toes.

Everyone gets a character arc god dammit, even if they don’t have a backstory, one will be provided!

He’s got a map, he’s got miniatures, he’s got dice and backup dice for the backup dice, he’s got DM notes for days!

Simeon could be a voice actor with the amount of character voices he can do, no one ever gets confused with who’s talking.

Did someone just uncover a massive bit of plot that was meant to be found out later? Good job! No harm done! Simeon’s DM improv is second to none, and the plot will adjust accordingly!

#Obey me #Obey me!#Obey me Headcanons #obey me! headcanons #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Mammon #Obey me Simeon #Obey me Leviathan #obey me beelzebub #Obey me Belphegor #Obey me Satan #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me MC #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date?

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yostresswritinggirl · 4 years ago

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Hello, may I request for Albedo hcs for an s/o who is inattentive? For example, the reader has difficulty reading long sentences or paying attention for a short time span, and ends up zoning out a lot? (If you're comfortable with this request of course, since it comes from me having inattentive adhd, or if you aren't too busy...) (But other than that please take care of yourself (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)) Thank you ( ╹▽╹ )

:DD

Somehow these requests are pulling out my Psychology teachings ahahha- this is honestly such a nice prompt cuz I miss my college roomie, I love her so much and she has adhd. I might be projecting but I'll be using her techniques in this too! This was so cute and fun to work on awwwwwwwwww thank you anon!

The Curious Case of S/O

Albedo with a Reader that has a hard time focusing

I saw someone hc Albedo as an autistic character and I actually agree with it, so some of that aspect will seep in to this answer eheh-

SO!

When it comes to things Albedo is passionate about, he keeps himself grounded and focused on it for an unhealthy period

So when Albedo found out about your curious case, safe to say he was intrigued too, and sometimes frustrated

You’re all over the place and it kind of irks him when you can’t stay put and just- keep moving to different stuff?

But Albedo knew this before you got together and he took it upon himself to make sure you’re taken care of whenever such episodes happen, he’s your lover and a genius, he can and will find a way

Reading: Albedo loves reading literature and will offer to read out the text for you if you get frustrated enough over it. He may not have all the time in the world, but if it’s important that you understand this text he will make sure you do so

His voice is really nice and calming, but sometimes- you get so lost in them that you ended up just focusing on his voice instead of uhhh paying attention to what he was saying

big sigh

If that approach doesn’t work then he’s got another trick up his sleeves!

Doodles, sketches, all that cute artistic stuff!

There’s a chance you already do this but he’s gonna make this 95% more effective!

When taking notes for big texts, he’s gonna draw little doodles to the side so you can get a good grasp of what it means just by looking over it.

If the text is especially long, he’ll give it a quick once over, and then rewrite it just to highlight the most important parts you need to remember

He’ll take it up a notch and use different colored pens to write over it so you would know what you need to read without going through the whole chapter

If he wills it, Albedo would find himself incorporating such techniques on his notes as well and he’ll just chuckle at his antics (smiling every time he remembers you through his lil notes)

Being inattentive also makes it so you forget or not take note of important stuff

Chief Alchemist also has a good remedy for this!

Given, this was established after numerous trials and errors of finding the best route

F I N G E R R I N G B A N D S

This boyo had this genius enlightenment of an idea one day and prepared the necessary materials

Ngl you actually thought he was gonna propose when he offered that golden ring, you were about to cry

until you see him bring out ten more rings, multi-colored

w h a t

And so he explains as he grasps your non-dominant hand:

“Your thumb represents the early morning, from when you wake up after the sun.

Your index finger signifies the period of 12PM, the moments the busy-ness starts, never forget to eat lunch always, darling.

Your middle finger is the longest and busiest hour, the middle of the afternoon where the sun is high up in the sky. You’ll find yourself running around a lot during this period, and I won’t always be there to remind you.

Your ring finger,” he pauses to give it a gentle kiss, “someday. But anyways, this is the period when the darkness starts to devour the sky in place of the sun. You should be cleaning up and finishing all other tasks at this period.

And finally your pinky finger, almost at the dead hours of the night, god knows what you’ll be doing at this time when you should be ready for rest. I don’t want to see a lot or any rings here, for you should be in my arms by this time.”

After that heart-warming, proposal-like dialogue, he’ll offer the rings and explain as best he can

The red ring represents deadlines; blue stands for commissions; white is for meet-ups; pink is for self-care or routines

He holds up the gold rings with a soft smile, placing one in each finger as he explains, “This one stands for me. Make sure that on every finger I am there, to remind you that I wish to know how you are, to accompany me so that I can remind you that I love you every day of the year.”

If you’re still alive after this, good for you

OTherwise I’m dead, this man is so cheesy and hnghhh-

After all that, Albedo wakes up with you and helps you organize your rings for the day <3

It looks nice and glamorous on your hand, and even if you get distracted by it, you’ll find yourself being reminded of what you need to do

Genuis boyo

But that’s not even 100% of his power

nononono he has another solution and this was something he picked up after spending time with you

His pretty t e a l eyes (just look at that damn banner)

You seem to stop everything when he focuses his eyes on you, eye contact, like you’re grounded or crystallized

Somehow when you see eye-to-eye it gives him enough time to remind you that you’re focusing on the wrong thing, go back to your notes

It’s just- so pretty :((

Works 99% of the time!

The rare 1% it doesn’t work tho, you get this very rare moment: before you can even move away from your task, finding yourself not caring about it again, he’ll just wrap his arms around you from behind. They’re comfortably tight, grounding your feet to the floor as he whines against your hair, scolding you and telling you to finish your stuff first

You couldn’t say no to a cute whiney Albedo

You can’t

//brings out knife// You better not-

Bonus: Albedo likes to focus on the important things, but he’s easily intrigued by curious things too

And with your tendency to lose focus and notice other things, this becomes a chaotic series of events

You’re both silently sitting in his laboratory, him sketching a diagram of his current research

You look up from the papers you were reading as you lose focus and the movement would easily catch Albedo’s attention, ready to move his lips to call you back-

“Oh, is that Crystalfly changing colors out there?”

“Huh?”

You’re both rushing to the window where you saw the phenomenon

And then you’re both running out to investigate further <3

All of Mond watches you two’s antics and finds you just to be the cutest couple in existence. Albedo has two Klee’s to take care of, is what it would look like sometimes.

PS. This is not an Albedo Blog

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact albedo #albedo #albedo x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #exile.goblet #exile.flower #followers special #hope you like it!#I enjoyed writing about Albedo even tho I'm very worried that im turning into an albedo blog sksksksk #next req is also albedo hngh #i hope you guys know i dont just write for albedo hhh #no hate tho #just curious why it's all ALBEDO #gender neutral

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thechekhov · 4 years ago

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Hi Chekhov! Really enjoying your white diamond au! I had a quick art question: How do you start comissions? I've been improving my drawing skills and thinking about drawing for others after having fun in artfight, but I don't know where to start? How much to charge, how to get paid, etc. Do you have any tips? Hope you're doing well! :)

Alright, since a few people have asked, I’ve decided to put together a few things about how to get started on commissions - what you need, what you should make, and how to keep things organized.

This will get a little long, so I’ll divide it into 4 main sections:

1) Draw Art - Getting started

2) Get Commissioned - Making a commission sheet, Advertising

3) ??? - Communicating, Setting Limits, Running the Business

4) Profit - Pricing Yourself and Getting Paid

* Disclaimer: I’m an artist, so this How-To will be illustration-focused. I’m sure many of these tips can apply to ANY types of commissions, but I will be focusing on the type I know best. If you are proficient in other types of commissions for other types of art - music commissions, photography, etc - feel free to chime in and leave a comment or make your own tutorial!

1) Draw Art

I think this is probably the most obvious part, but it needs to be said:

Before you start making art for other people, you must first be comfortable making art in general.

I’m not saying your art has to be Disney-quality, or industry-level! Not at all.

BUT! You must be comfortable creating what you sell. If you try to sell something you have little confidence in, you will stress yourself out and possibly end up losing time AND money.

Don’t shoot for the moon if you haven’t landed on it even once. Sell what you know you’re good at. Your commissions don’t HAVE to include full-body illustrations if you don’t know how to draw feet/solid stances. Limit yourself to what you can do.

Things you need to should probably have before starting commissions:

1. Access to art materials or a fully downloaded art program

DO NOT - Use a free tutorial version that will expire in a month and leave you without a way to draw! If you are having trouble finding a program, try free ones like MediBang Paint Pro.

2. Free time to complete the amount of commissions you want to take.

DO NOT - Take on or offer commissions if you KNOW you’re going to be overwhelmed with school or personal life for the next 2+ months. Pace yourself, otherwise you’ll burn out, get stressed, and get discouraged.

3. A reliable way to communicate with your customers like a commissions-only email

DO NOT - Use your friend/family/college email. It’s hard to keep track of things as it is, and creating new emails is easy and free. And keep it professional if you can! Not many people will reach out to dong-wiggles20434 to ask for a design. Ideally, your email should be close to your brand - however you want to brand yourself. Usernames are fine!)

DO NOT - Use Instagram/Twitter/Tumblr to collect commission info unless you are ready to do the organizing yourself. Some people make it work, but in my experience, if you use these SNS sites to communicate with friends and network... you’re going to be losing commission inquiries right and left and accidentally ignoring people. Email is much easier to organize and sort into folders.

4. A portfolio or at least 2-3 pieces of each type of art you’re planning to sell.

DO NOT - Advertise commissions without having any examples of the art you plan to sell. People will find it difficult to trust you if you can’t even give them a vague idea of what sort of drawing they’ll be getting.

Disclaimer: These are not hard ‘do not’s. If you have had a different experience, I respect that. I’m simplifying for the sake of streamlining this advice.

2) Get Commissioned

So - you have your art, you have your art program, and you’ve got all the time in the world. That means.... that’s right! It’s time to let the world know you’re taking commissions.

One of the most common ways artists signal to their audience that they can do commissions is by creating a commissions sheet. There are MANY ways to make this - and they range from simple and doodly ones to VERY complex designs. For example, here’s mine!

There are many ways to organize a commission sheet. At its core, a commission sheet should display the types of art you WANT to be commissioned to make. Let’s go over a few ways they can be done!

#1.... Body Portion Dividers!

This sheet is most common with those who want to capitalize on drawing people and characters. If you want to draw lots of characters, this is a great way to offer several tiers of pricing based on how much of their character your customers want to see.

#2... Complexity Scale

If you’re open to drawing many things but want to base your pricing off of how complex something is, you can split your tiers into done-ness. This type of commission is popular with those that draw characters AND animals, furries, etc.

#3.... Style and Type

If you’re more on the design side of things, or if you have various niche art styles that you can’t quite lump together, display a variety of your skills alongside each other! It helps if all the ones you have can be organized under a common customer - like those looking to advance their own business and get logos, websites, or mascots made for them!

3) ???

You got your first commission... what happens now???

Well, ideally you have the time, tools and motivation to make things happen! Now all you have to do is... sit down and... draw.......

I’m going to say something that may be a little controversial:

Commissions aren’t fun.

No, no, hear me out: I have fun doing commissions! I genuinely enjoy drawing characters and coming up with designs. But even with all that said, commissions are, first and foremost: WORK

I’m not saying this to discourage you, I’m saying this to keep things realistic. When I first began commissions, I thought it would be just like any other type of drawing. I would sit down, imagine a thing, draw it... it would be fun!

But then I realized that I couldn’t just draw what I wanted - another person had an idea in mind and had asked me to do it. I stressed over getting the design correct from descriptions. I stressed over not having the right reference for the pose the commissioner wanted. I stressed over not being able to draw the leg right in the way I had promised I would do. I stressed about billing. I stressed about digital money transfers. It was difficult, and time-consuming, and I did not enjoy it. At all.

And a part of that is definitely on the commissioner - we, as artists, NEED to demand proper references or descriptions. We, as artists, NEED to limit the amount of changes we’re going to make at the flick of a finger. We NEED to demand clear instructions and set boundaries. That’s also super important.

But also - don’t be discouraged if you find yourself exhausted drawing your first commission. MANY artists go through this. Adjust your rules, fix up your limits, practice putting your foot down on finicky commissioners who expect you to read their mind! It does get easier, but you have to communicate and put in the effort and act as your own manager AND your own customer service AND your own accountant. That’s what you’re looking at.

Good limits and boundaries to set:

Limit the amount of changes a person can ask to make. “I want blue hair.” Next email: “No wait, yeah, make it red.” Next email: “Actually I changed my mind, can I get the blue but like, lighter?” Next email: “No, not that light.” ... At some point, we have to stop. I personally allow 2-3 changes on the final stages of a commission before I start refusing or start asking for extra money.

Demand clear instructions and/or references. If something isn’t described, you have to take artistic liberty and design it, but that’s difficult! And if the customer is not happy with it but can’t tell you more? That’s not your problem - the burden of reference is on THEM. You cannot read their mind, and that’s not your fault.

Get at least half the payment up front! This is a good balance between the ‘pay before art’ and the ‘pay after art’ conundrum that will limit the amount of woes between artist and customer. (I’ll touch upon this a little more in the Profit section.)

Organization:

Where possible, create good habits! Tag your emails and organize your folders. I have a tag on my emails for active and finished commissions. I also keep my emails on Unread until I have time to sit down and properly look at/reply to them.

My Commissions in the folder are also organized chronologically and I mark down which ones are paid and which ones are not.

(I understand not everyone can do this, but if you want to give it a try, it does make things easier in the long run. Again, this advice is just what I have found personally helps.)

One last thing - I do not want to shame ANYONE for taking their time with commissions! Commissions are complex, and they take time and work. You can draw in 8 hours, but some things take research, materials, etc. Some illustrations realistically take up to half a year, or, depending on what’s involved, several years!!

THAT BEING SAID - it’s good manners to be upfront with your customers about how long you expect the commission to take. If you think you’re busy, just say that! Explain that you have a lot going on, and you will probably take (insert time period here).

And if your commissioners are worried, work out a system to keep them updated! I send my commissioners updates when I finish the lineart/flat colors/etc and I try to be clear about how long everything will take. I try to estimate with a +3-5 days buffer to give myself extra time... and recently I’ve been using it. Always say a bigger number than you think you’ll need.

If someone wants a rushed commission... make them pay more. If ANYONE wants a commission done ‘by the end of the week’ - that’s an automatic rush-job for me because I’m juggling an irl job and several commissions at once. I WILL charge a rush fee and I won’t feel bad about it.

If someone wants a commission within 24 hours...... Well, they better be paying you 3x your normal amount, or more. And remember - you CAN refuse! It’s perfectly reasonable to say ‘No, sorry, that sort of turnaround time is not realistic for me.’

Food For Thought - Invoicing

Many artists I’ve commissioned in the past have not used Invoicing, but I’ve recently begun to fill out invoices and file them in my Commissions folder just to keep track of things. It’s not necessary until you start getting into the Small Business side of Freelancing, but it’s not a bad idea to get into the habit early in case you might need to do it later for tax purposes.

Here’s what my Invoice looks like, for example.

I’ve optimized it to help me remember who, what, and how much is involved! It also contains important info for my customers like where to send the money.

Which brings us to...

4) Profit

One of the hardest things for artists is pricing themselves. I’m not going to tell you which way is BEST - there is no BEST way, only the best way for YOU.

One of the options available to you is pricing by the hour. It includes averaging out how long it takes you to draw a specific type of art (whatever you’re offering as a commission) and multiplying that by an hourly wage you’ve decided on.

When you do this, I stress - do NOT price yourself below minimum wage if you can help it. When you first start out, aim for the $15/hour mark and adjust accordingly.

Other ways to price your art:

- Per complexity: Portraits vs full body should be scaled based on how difficult you find one vs. the other. You can also easily decide on a price for a sketch and double it for lineart, triple it for full color, etc.

- Per type: Look up for industry prices for website design and logo design. They may surprise you! You don’t have to charge that much, but it helps to keep things in perspective.

It’s okay to change your prices! Keep your commission sheet image handy so you can update the amounts as you grow. :)

Payment up front or after completion?

Some artist take full payment up front. Some only demand payment after they’ve finished and sent out the piece. I personally think these are both risky for everyone involved.

I recommend doing at least HALF of the payment BEFORE you start the commission. Calculate your full price and ask for half before you start working on it in earnest, to make sure the person can actually pay you. Then, when they receive the full piece and are satisfied, they can complete the payment.

I personally work in this structure:

> Someone emails me with their idea/reference

> I send back a rough draft sketch that shows the idea/pose (only takes me 10-20 minutes so not a huge loss if they ghost) and quote them a price

> They can pay the full thing upfront OR pay half

> I finish the commission and send updates when I do the lineart/colors to double check anything so they have multiple chances to spot any errors

> If the person paid only half on completion, I send them a low-res version of the finished thing, they finish up their payment and THEN I send them the full-res version plus any other filetypes/CYMK proofs, etc.

Many of the people who commission me pay me up front even though I offer they pay half - and I’m really flattered that they trust me that much! Because of that, I feel encouraged to update them frequently and ask for their input as I work, so they have the peace of mind knowing I’m actually doing their commission.

Great, but how do I get PAID????

There are NUMEROUS ways - these days money is relatively easy to transfer over digital means, and you have a few options.

Paypal is perhaps one of the oldest digital wallets and is geared towards businesses. By setting up a PayPal and connecting it to your debit card of bank account, you can tunnel a pathway from your online business directly into your hands in a matter of days.

Paypal also offers Invoicing - you make an invoice, price it and send it to the person’s email and they can pay whatever way they need! (It also allows partial payments.)

Pros: transfers from PayPal to bank account are free, and take a couple of business days. It also has no upper limit to the amount of money you can move in/out each month. It can force refunds due to the nature of its business-oriented payment system.

Cons: Because it’s used by businesses for larger transactions, PayPal may demand a more rigorous proof of your identity. It may also take longer to set up and be harder to get used to. I’ve also heard that they can be a hassle when it comes to closing your account.

Venmo is another type of digital wallet that acts much like paypal, except for a few key differences - it is NOT made for businesses (so depending on whether you’re officially registered as a freelancer, you may not be able to use it). I personally don’t use venmo, so I cannot speak to its usefulness, but I know a few people that use it for casual transactions. It’s easy and quick! :)

Keep in mind that you cannot force a refund over venmo! The transactions are final.

There’s also CashApp, GooglePay (which could load gift cards but also allows peer-to-peer transactions) and I’ve heard good things about Due, though I’ve never personally used it.

Other ways to pay: I’ve had people pay me over Patreon by upping their pledge, and I’ve had people pay me over Ko-Fi by donating a specific amount.

Many people even use Etsy - the website specialized for independent small businesses selling art - by listing their commission sheet and offering up several ‘slots’ of commissions, which allows you to track taxes AND allows your clients to pay using whatever they feel comfortable with.

If you’re in Canada, you can even pay by emailing money directly from bank account to bank account - check whether your country offers this type of service! There’s no shortage of ways to move money in the digital world.

Just like everything else, there’s no singular ‘Best’ way. It just depends on what works for you.

I think that just about wraps it up! I can’t quite think of what else to put here - but I’m sure other artists will chime in with their own advice. :) I’m very sorry this became so long but I hope it was helpful!

Obligatory Disclaimer: I’m not qualified to give legal or accounting counsel. Please double-check the laws in your own country/state in regards to taxation of freelancing work and do your own research. If you are underage, DEFINITELY get an adult’s permission before you start doing commissions, and have the adult help you through the process.��

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

OTHER POSTS YOU MAY FIND USEFUL:

An Extended Post on Pricing Yourself for Commissions

Dealing with Imposter Syndrome/Feeling ‘Not Good Enough’

Growing Your Audience

Advice for Starting Digital Art

#Anonymous #long post #commissions #how to #infograph #how to do commissions #arting #art tutorial

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writersmilex · 3 years ago

Text

Raggedy.

Paul Gray X Reader.

Summary : (Y/n) has a hobby they're ashamed of. Paul eventually finds out. a little birthday gift for @sleepy-poet

_______________________________________

(Y/n) has always been very secretive about everything they do. They're the second most mysterious around, after Craig. They don't talk about themselves. The band doesn't know what (Y/n) does for a living, or if they have any hobbies, what they like. Hell, even their favorite color is a mystery to the band.

Paul want to find out why (Y/n) keeps everything to themselves. And he can't help but feel a bit worried... He doesn't know why he feels that way, just his gut tells him to be worried. There a have been a few examples where (Y/n) is behaving more suspiciously than mysterious...

~~~~

The bassist has his eye on (Y/n) as they converse with Sid. Well... The DJ is doing most of the talking. Every time Sid asked (Y/n) a question, they turn the conversation back to the DJ. They refuse to talk about themselves to other people. And that worries the bassist. He really wants to know what's wrong... Paul comes up with a plan to confront (Y/n) about it. And he hopes that they're willing to tell him what's bothering them.

After Sid is done talking to (Y/n) and leaves the room, it's time for Paul's plan to go into motion. Just before (Y/n) is about to leave too. He jumps up from his seat to catch up with them. "Hey, (Y/n)." he calls and really stumbles over his own feet, catching for (Y/n)'s attention. They turn around to face him, their feet shuffling over the carpeted floor. "hmm?" They hum quizzically, giving the bassist a look. "I uh..." Paul stammers, searching in his mind for the right words to from an appropriate sentence for this situation.

"I just wanted to ask if you're... doing okay?" He asks carefully, seeming to grimace at the sound of his own voice. (Y/n)'s eyebrows furrow at the bassist's question, for them it seems to come out of nowhere. "ah, Yeah i'm fine. Why do you ask?" They wonder, scanning the man before them for any sign of what could give his concern away. Unfortunately (Y/n) can't read body-language all that well. "Well uh..." Paul rubs the back of his head. "You seems so... closed off lately. Even more so than usual. Are you sure you're okay?" He elaborates, looking a little uncomfortable. As if asking about a subject that is very sensitive to (Y/n).

(Y/n) shakes their head slowly. They can't help but appreciate that Paul cares about them, it makes their gut feel tied. "I promise you Paul, i'm doing just fine. I just... don't like to talk about myself much, i'd rather listen to what others have to say, you see?" (Y/n) explains. The bassist is unsure of what to say to their answer. He decides to let his worries drop for now. "If you say so (Y/n). Just so you know, if there is anything wrong you can talk to me." He says, and watches (Y/n) step back ready to leave the room. "Thanks Paul, i really appreciate that and i'll keep it in mind." They smile and take more steps back, before turning around and leaving the room as well.

Paul is left there conflicted with is own thoughts. He's unsure if he should believe (Y/n)'s claims. People with depression often lie to peoples faces about their condition, believing that the burden others with their feelings.

The bassist is sure he's going to keep his eye on his friend, he will jump in when (Y/n) behavior gets stranger.

~~~~

To start a new project, (Y/n) has to make some sketches first. The commissions are closed for now, but (Y/n) is still willing to make plush toys to donate to various organisations involving children. The latest donation went towards a kids unit in a mental institution. And (Y/n) felt very proud when they got positive reactions from the hospital. It always gives (Y/n) a warm feeling knowing that their hard work is well received.

They flip the pencil around to erase a little slip up on the next design sketch. It still needs some adjustments, but it's going good so far.

"What are you doing?" A familiar voice startles (Y/n). They jump in their seat and quickly shut their sketch book closed to hide what they were making. They look up and meet the eye of the bassist leaning over the back of the very chair that (Y/n) is sitting in. Paul only got a glimpse of what was in (Y/n)'s sketchbook. "Ah! Paul, don't scare me like that!" (Y/n) puts their hand on their chest to calm their rapid beating heart.

"Haha, Sorry (Y/n)." The bassist laughs, holding his hands up in defense. "What are you writing?" He asks, holding his hands behind his back and leaning over in interest. (Y/n) looks away and shakes their head. "No, i'm not showing you." They says, holding the book close to their chest to keep anyone from looking at it. Their cheeks turn pink in embarrassment, looking away from the man standing behind them. "aww, come on now." Paul teases, "Just one peek." But (Y/n) refuses, shaking their head and turning away from the bassist. Paul can't help but feel even more curious than before, and still a little worried even. What could be so special what (Y/n) wouldn't want to share it with the world? "Okay, fine." Paul gives up pushing and turns away. While walking away he takes a quick peek back and sees (Y/n) open the book again and resuming what they were doing. He can't remember being this curious about something before.

~~~~

There, now that (Y/n) is alone again, they got the chance to work on their own project. They take out the unfinished plush toy out of their bag and resume working on it. One of their family members is having a child, and (Y/n) wants to make a little something for the coming child. One of those blanket plushies that babies and toddlers love, made from wool so it's not vegan... The expecting mother doesn't know that wool comes from sheep at least. (Y/n) sighs while thinking deeply, resuming their knitting work on the present. Paul has been looking around for (Y/n), not finding them anywhere. He asked Joey for help, but the drummer just pointed into a random direction and walked away. Not very helpful... He hears a noise of metal hitting metal, a almost rhythmic clicking sound. Curious, Paul enters the room where the noise seems to come from. And there he finds (Y/n) knitting away at a project. The bassist is intrigued at best, what are they making? Silently, Paul approaches (Y/n), peaking over their shoulder to take a look at what they're doing. There he finds that (Y/n) is knitting something, although he can't really tell what it is. (Y/n) feels a presence with them in the room, they slowly stop knitting. The feeling feels a little threatening, but that's a mere instinct. (Y/n) turns their head to look over their shoulder, meeting the chocolate brown eyes of Slipknot's bassist. They let out a yelp of surprise, and jolt back. Paul jumps back to stand up straight, just as surprised. It's silent for a between the two, neither sure of what to say or who should speak up first. But Paul is brave enough to speak first, "sooo..." He begins, rubbing the back of his head nervously. He feels like he interrupted something, but the discovery feels revolutionary, the answer to his burning questions. "You knit?" He asks gently. ~~~~ (Y/n) and the bassist are sitting across from each other. (Y/n) is looking at their own hands, tapping their rough fingertips together nervously. Paul has found out the hobby/work that they have being trying to hide from the band for a long time... "I didn't know that you're so creative." Paul says, astonished at what he has discovered. "You really do this for a living?" He gapes at the project that's on the table before him. (Y/n)'s hand rakes up their arm to rub their arm. "Yeah... It's a side thing. I still have job, i do this for fun. The money from commissions are a nice bonus." (Y/n) mumbles, not daring to look his eye. He must think that it's really lame, of course he would. He's a tough rock-star, he would grimace at something to mundane as making plushies! "It's really relaxing to knit. I know it's lame." (Y/n) crosses their arms and sinks into their seat. "No No!" Paul objects, waving with his hands. "It's not lame at all! I think it's pretty cool." Paul grins, putting one thumb up in the air. (Y/n) looks at the bassist with big eyes. "You think it's cool?" They ask meekly. Paul replies with a nod and a big smiles. He then stands up to take a seat right next to (Y/n). He put a hand on their shoulder to assure them. "I think it's very cool at least." He says with a kind smiles. (Y/n) can't help but smile back at the bassist. This really does make them feel less ashamed of their hobby. Paul is really good at showing his friends that he cares. (Y/n) twists their upper-body towards him to give him a hug that Paul is more than happy to return. "Thanks Paul." They mumble into his shoulder. The bassist squeezes them in response. Yes, Paul never fails to make (Y/n) feel better about anything. _________________________________________ I Hope you enjoy it! Thanks for reading. - Pennart.

#slipknot imagines #slipknot x reader #slipknot #paul gray x reader #paul gray #2 #x reader #reader insert #imagines #requested #birthday gift

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lovely-angst · 4 years ago

Text

a glimpse of the past

//SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 299!

pairing: hawks x reader

genre: fluff and angst

word count: 2.7k

summary: Hawks’ past was unknown to you and you were okay with that, for now at least. But when your quirk had gone out of control and you find yourself in an unfamiliar location, you spot a pair of very familiar wings.

a/n: my writing is kinda rusty here, sorry!

02.05.21

Hawks was different—not in a bad way, but in a mysterious way.

You knew so many things about him, but there were more things that you didn’t know about him.

These things he kept a secret from you didn’t keep you from loving him any less. Though there were times when it hurt because he kept them from you, Hawks would always press a soft kiss to your forehead, saying, “When the time comes, I’ll tell you.”

And because you loved him, you waited.

There were days where the only time you got to see your boyfriend was when he was on the news. Even after a rough battle against some villain, he still smiled bright and warm—It was easy to miss a person like him.

The days when he would be able to come home were your favorites by far. It usually consisted of nothing more than chicken take-out and lots of cuddles, but you didn’t mind.

Hawks was set out for a complicated mission, possibly one of the most critical missions, he explained, sparing you no further information for your safety.

It was almost time for Hawks to report to the commission as he stood in the apartment’s cozy living room the two of you shared. Your gentle hands lightly brushed away stray wrinkles on his jacket before you glanced up at him with a comforting smile.

“I’ll miss you,” he says quietly, “so much.” Your hand brushes his hair back more before you press a kiss onto his forehead, “me too.”

“Do you think you could use my quirk on you?” you ask carefully, watching as Hawks gives you a rueful smile. “Are you sure, birdie? You might not like what you see.” He could see the hesitant look in your eyes.

Your quirk allowed you to see a glimpse into the future of the person you touched as if you were there in person. If you were able to get a good hold on them, for example holding their hand, you could see the scene clearer and with greater detail.

Hawks was right to warn you—what if you saw him dead in the future?

Shaking the terrifying thought from your mind, you nodded before grabbing onto his hands. “Just to keep me from worrying more. Did you want me to tell you what I’ll see?”

“Sure,” he replied with a smile and you smiled back before closing your eyes, allowing your quirk to activate.

Structures began to take place in the black canvas of your mind before you found yourself standing in the middle of debris from a destroyed building. Turning your head, you saw Hawks in Tokoyami’s arms as the two seemed to be escaping.

Turning your head, your eyes caught on to the smoke flowing from one of the rooms, blue fire seemed to peek through gently before a shadow stood in the doorway.

Suddenly, your body came back to the present as you opened your eyes to see Hawks staring at you somewhat worriedly. “Are you okay? You seemed a little distressed while you were gone there.”

All you could do was offer him a small sorry. “I can’t seem to tell if it’s good or bad, but you were with Tokoyami. The two of you seemed to be escaping from a lot of smoke and what seemed like blue fire.”

With that, Hawks gave you a comforting smile before leaning in to place a kiss onto your forehead, “Thanks dove, keep the nest warm for me.” You nod with a chuckle from his words—he loved referring to the apartment as a nest.

When he began to walk out to the balcony ready to take off, you quickly ran over to him to pull him in for a kiss, “I love you, do your best.” Hawks stared into your eyes full of love and adoration before he too pressed a kiss onto your lips, “Will do, and I love you too,” and with that, Hawks took off.

The mission wasn’t carried out until three days later, when there had finally been a news report.

The news didn’t report much on the battle because of how dangerous it was at the scene. From what they could report on, they managed to collect footage from helicopters on all the destruction done.

The battle was all the news outlet seemed to cover. Your heart pounded in your chest every time you watched the news—you couldn’t seem to pinpoint Hawks anywhere on the footage they showed, with wings as large and red as his.

Hawks was often away for missions, but you felt especially lonely this time around. It seemed all of Tokyo was waiting to see the aftermath of all of this destruction.

All you could do was hope Hawks was okay.

Your phone jingled beside you as you glanced down to find Tokoyami’s ID flashing on your screen.

“Hello? Tokoyami? Is everything okay?” you asked worriedly. “I’m fine, I just thought you might want to come visit Hawks. The hospital is allowing close friends and family to visit, so I thought I’d give you a call.”

Your eyes teared up from his thoughtfulness. You made it a mental note to treat the student someday.

“Thank you for calling me Tokoyami, I’ll be on my way.” and with that, you hung up the phone before quickly making your way to the hospital.

It had been a few days since the war against the villains had ceased. Those injured were hospitalized right away, including your lovely boyfriend. He wasn’t allowed any visitors at the time, but it seemed things were beginning to look up.

Approached the hospital, it wasn’t easy making your way through the large group of news reporters, fans good and bad alike. Thankfully you were able to pass through into the hospital thanks to some of Hawks’ hero friends.

As you made your way through the hospital, you noticed Tokoyami standing outside Hawks’ room. “Tokoyami,” you greet loud enough for the student to hear as he turned to give you a polite bow.

“I want to thank you again for the phone call and for looking out for Hawks,” you confess, “I saw you saving him through my quirk,” Tokoyami looked shocked before he composed himself and gave you a nod. Reaching over, you pulled the boy in for a comforting hug.

“Hawks is alive because of you. You’re an amazing hero, Tokoyami. Don’t forget that, okay?” Pulling away, the young man gives you a shy smile before he nods. “Thank you, (Name)-san.”

Turning towards the door, you rest your hand on the door handle, hesitating, only to hear Tokoyami’s voice cut through your thoughts. “It’ll be alright, (Name)-san. He’s been waiting for you.”

It was your turn to nod at the male before you slide the door open, stepping inside the too quiet room filled with the constant beeps of the hospital equipment.

With a deep breath, you brush past the curtains to see your boyfriend glancing out the window from where he laid on the hospital bed. Your heart broke seeing him hooked up to multiple machines, bandages wrapped nearly around his whole body, but that wasn’t the worst part—his wings were missing.

Gently, you knocked on the door, signaling your arrival. Right away, you noticed the panicked look in his eyes as he turned to you, your smile faltering as a result. Did he not want you here?

Cautiously, you walk over to his bed, pulling out a chair for yourself as you made yourself comfortable beside his bed. “Tokoyami called me over,” you say with a gentle tone, “he’s a really nice kid, remember to treat him well.”

The overpowering feeling of trying to repress your tears that threatened to slip out was difficult. You told yourself you’d be strong for Hawks, but seeing him in such a state—it was almost impossible.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry,” you say with a small chuckle as you began to wipe at your tears, “but it’s hard not to cry when I see you all bandaged up like this and hooked to all this equipment.” You sniffle once more, glancing over at Hawks, only to find him staring at you.

You really tried to get Hawks to settle down, but he just didn’t seem comfortable with you around. With a frown, you glanced over at him, “You look really nervous and tense right now, Hawks. Do you not want me here?”

His gold eyes shot to yours, even more, panicked now than before. Your brows furrow sadly as you watched your struggling boyfriend. Suddenly, he pointed to his throat before your eyes widened, “You can’t speak?” He nods.

Turning, you search through your bag before pulling out your phone, pressing on the notes app before handing it to him, “you can use my phone if you’d like.”

Taking your hands in his, he begins to type away before pressing the speaker button, letting your phone read out his message, “I do want you here. I just didn’t want you seeing me like this.” Giving him a sad smile, you leaned over towards him before pressing a kiss on his forehead, “Don’t be silly. How are you feeling though? Physically and mentally?”

“Not good. Tired physically and mentally,” you frowned from his comment, wishing there was more you could do for him. “I’m sorry to hear. If it makes you feel any better, I plan on staying overnight at the hospital. I was able to get work off.”

His eyes softened and you couldn’t help the smile that grew on your lips. “I love you, you know. I’d never leave you when you’re struggling,” Hawks glances down at the phone, typing a quick message before letting it play. Your laughter fills the air before you shake your head, “and even if you’re not struggling.”

Times like these sucked, but Hawks was glad that you were here to help him.

Throughout the day, Hawks slept like a log from his exhausted and medicated state. Thankfully, the doctors had informed you that he was healing exceptionally well and even if it took some time, his wings were bound to grow back.

The nurses would occasionally come in to check on Hawks and change any bandages as they needed to, making sure he was healing at his potential.

It was past 11 at night when you had woken up from a late nap. You had moved the long sofa from the window over beside Hawks’ bed to be closer to him at night.

Sitting up, you decided to check up on Hawks, who was still sleeping. Pushing the sofa back enough to stand between the sofa and the bed, you hovered over Hawks, brushing his messy bangs back slightly. He looked so much more peaceful asleep.

And thankfully, he was doing just fine. Letting out a relieved sigh, you shut your tired eyes before placing your hand on his, but suddenly, your quirk activated itself.

You found yourself falling into the dark abyss. Your surroundings began to take shape and it wasn’t long before you found yourself in an unfamiliar place.

Glancing around, you observed the soft clouds that drifted along the bright blue sky. You could see what seemed to be the main town in the distance, filled with tall and large buildings alike.

“Keigo!”

Hearing a sudden shout, you quickly turned around to find an old rundown shack that laid out in the middle of nowhere. “Who’s Keigo?” you thought to yourself as you quickly glanced around before making your way to the shack.

Peeking through the worn out doorway, your eyes glanced around at the torn up shack and how mangled up the place was. It seemed as if someone was living in this shack.

You caught a glimpse of the woman who sat on the floor silently, but the tense man had caught your attention.

The rugged looking man seemed to be fuming with anger. It wasn’t until he kicked the small child that sent you shooting towards him, “Hey! Leave them alone!” you cried as you tried to push the man away, only to phase through him and onto the ground.

Turning around, your eyes were met with familiar red wings, but this time smaller. As the man walked away, the child leaned over to grab the Endeavor doll that had gone flying from the impact of the kick.

“An Endeavor doll?” you questioned, glancing up to take a look at the young boy. That’s when it all clicked, “Hawks?”

Suddenly, the black abyss opened back up above you. The scene began breaking and shooting up before you too went flying up into the emptiness.

Your quirk was fading—you were waking up.

Gasping awake, your breathing was heavy and labored as your eyes quickly scanned the area before they landed on Hawks, this time from the present. His hands gripped your forearms tightly as a worried expression crossed his face.

Gently, his hands slid up until they landed on your cheeks, holding your face in his hands as you began to sob uncontrollably. Everything you had just seen and heard was too much for you to handle.

His thumbs caressed your cheeks in efforts to comfort your shaken form.

You didn’t know why your emotions seemed to burst out of you, but you had an idea it was because of how you had seen a glimpse Hawks’ past—something he had kept a secret from you.

“Hawks,” you choked, staring into his gold orbs, “m-my quirk activated when I touched you, but it sent me to the past instead, your past.” His hands faltered slightly against your cheeks. Reaching up, you placed your hands on what you could manage on his cheeks before whispering,

“Keigo, that’s your real name, isn’t it?”

Hawks’ eyes widened as he pulled away from you, shaken from hearing his name come from your lips. Dragging your hands down, you slip your smaller ones into his, giving him a comforting squeeze.

“I got a glimpse of your past. I saw that little shack you lived in. I think those adults in the room were your parents. He was calling you ‘Keigo,’ and you were just a little boy.”

Hawks shut his eyes with furrowed brows as you recalled what you had seen. If he was honest, this wasn’t how he wanted you to find out, especially when he was roughed up and stuck in the hospital.

But he was also relieved to have it off his chest—fate must’ve played a role in this.

Guilt slowly began to eat at you as Hawks sat quietly on his hospital bed, not paying you any attention as he hung his head low. Was it a mistake telling him about his past?

“I’m sorry,” you start awkwardly, “it wasn’t my place to say all of this. Um, I’m just going to step out for a few minutes. I didn’t mean to-” Before you could say or get any further, Hawks tightened his grip on your hands, keeping you in place. “Hawks?”

Releasing your hands, he made a gesture to your phone before you leaned over to grab the device for him. You sat in anticipation as you watched him type away before the robotic voice filled the room.

“I didn’t want you finding out like this,” You could only manage a sad smile, his fingers typing away once more. “Once I heal and once my voice is back, I promise I’ll tell you everything.”

“You don’t have to if you’re not ready,” you try, but Hawks shook his head, “I can’t keep hiding this from you.”

With a shaky breath, you nod. Hawks was set on his decision and you would go to him with an open heart and with open arms. He trusts you and you trust him back.

Lying back down on the sofa that sat beside his bed, you reached over his hand once more before making yourself comfortable, “For now, let’s go to sleep. You need to rest, my sweet bird. I love you, have a good night.” you say.

Closing your eyes, you could only hear Hawks getting himself comfortable in his bed before a few taps were heard.

“Good night, I love you too, chickadee.”

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nolawritesfanfics-deactive · 4 years ago

Text

Summer Problems

Warnings: mentions of alcohol

Pairing: Venti x Gn!reader

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort

Summary: you’re having a bad day but Venti helps you

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡

It was summertime.

Mondstadt was crowded at this time of year, much to your dismay. The people just made the city warmer, and you couldn’t get to any stores due to the long lines. Not to mention the extra commissions. The same person had asked you to find their kid eight times this week.

It was hell.

However, Venti was overjoyed by the new flood of tourists. The people, the songs, the conversations you could overhear. Every part of it was great!

And, it meant that the anemo archon could buy more dandelion wine. More visitors means more people to listen to his ballads, which means more money, which means more wine. Maybe Diluc would even give him some for free if he was in a good mood!

Occasionally, you and Venti would bicker about your opinions on summer, but it was all in good fun. Besides, there were some benefits to the heat. For example, the heat and crowds gave you a reason to travel outside of mondstadt on your breaks, and it gave Venti a reason to pester you every chance he got.

Of course, “pester” isn’t exactly the right word. Venti was the one who encouraged you to go on walks to the tree with him, and despite your reluctance, you eventually caved. And it was Venti, so what could go wrong?

Soon, it became a tradition for the two of you. Every time you had a break, you would grab something to eat and bring it with you to Vanessa’s tree. There, you and Venti would talk about your day, and whatever else was on your mind.

Right now was one of those breaks, but every commission you had gotten done today had gone wrong.

Every.

Single.

One.

Most of the people you were helping were rude or loud, the top two qualities you hated. Additionally, you had turned in some paper work to Jean, a few hours late, which was not taken well since she was already busy.

You may or may not have gotten yelled at by her .

Plus, you hadn’t eaten breakfast this morning because of your duties, and all of the restaurants in mondstadt were packed to the point where they couldn’t accept any new customers, leaving you starving and sad.

So, you went to the tree empty handed, hoping to find some comfort from your lover. As usual, he was sitting below the tree, playing his lyre. When he saw your wilting form, his demeanor changed from relaxed to worried.

He rushed over to you, gently wrapping his arms around you.

“Are you okay, (Y/n)? What happened, what’s wrong?”

All you could do was sniffle before completely breaking down. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, as your arms found their way around his body. Venti rubbed your back and guided you to sit down in the grass.

“Everything’s going to be okay, I promise.” He whispered, “I’m right here.”

Your sobs broke through the atmosphere, drowning out the sounds of the rustling leaves. Venti just held you, like you always did for him when he was sad. When you calmed down, you felt exhausted. Your chest felt lighter, even though your sadness hadn’t fully dissolved.

Venti rested his chin on your head, which was lying on his chest. The warmth of his body was so different from the cold night air, the clash of temperatures causing you to shiver and hug the bard tighter.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Venti asked softly.

Pulling away, you looked up at him, waiting a second before nodding. You told him about everything. You told him about your bad commissions, Jean’s frustration with you, and the fact that you hadn’t eaten all day.

As you spoke to him, you realized that you had missed your final shift for today because you were at the tree. Sighing, you decided that you were too tired to care. But you couldn’t help but ask yourself, were you ready to fix things tomorrow?

Venti laughed quietly and kissed your forehead. “I’m really sorry that happened... you’ve been doing the best you can, and that’s really what matters.” Pressing your head to his chest, he continues. “And, I wouldn’t worry about your issues with Jean. I’ll help you explain yourself! You’ll get off innocent, I guarantee it!”

“How- how do you know that?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Ehh… well… let’s just say I’ve known her for a while, so I have some tricks up my sleeve!”

“Venti does she know that you’re barbato-“

“Maybe- but that doesn’t matter! Anyways, we need to get you something to eat.” Venti cheered, yanking you up from the ground, intertwining your fingers. “Let’s go!!”

“Wait- wait what? Where are we going?! I thought every tavern was full….” You murmured.

“Ehe! I saved us a spot at Angel’s Share- don’t ask how, now come on!”

Next thing you knew, you and Venti were racing through the darkness towards the glowing lights of the city of freedom.

You knew that with the help of a carefree spirit like Venti, you would be ready to fight again tomorrow.

Some dandelion wine might help you as well.

#self insert #venti x reader #venti x y/n #venti x you #anemo archon #genshinimpact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #venti the bard #reader insert #y/n #venti fluff

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unmaskedagain · 5 years ago

Text

How about... No!

Yeah, this one was weird for me. It’s started out strong but near the near the end It kind of fell flat. Throughout this I sprinkled in Quotes from one of my favorite shows; I’d watched it every time it was on. Fans will recognize it. Its ugly betty.

When Marinette lost all her friends, she didn’t break down like she thought she would. Or how anyone in class thought she would. There were no tears, no apologies, no anger or frustration. It had happened one sunny Tuesday afternoon, in the middle of class, of month after school started back up again.

Alya, the new class president, had announced in the middle of class after Miss Bustier had stepped out for a moment, that Marinette was an awful bully; she wasn’t the girl they knew anymore, and so… “We’re not your friends anymore.”

“You all feel this way?” Marinette asked.

There were a lot of nods, and yes’s.”

“I didn’t hang with Chloe for reason,” Nino glared. “I’m not hanging with Chloe 2.0.”

“Just another disappointing useless male,” Chloe shook her head.

“You’ve been really mean lately,” Rose said softly. “Sorry.”

“Lila only wanted to be friends with you,” Mylene insisted. “You didn’t have to be so nasty!”

To which Marinette looked at her blankly, shrugged and said, “Okay.”

That was it.

The other students in class didn’t know what to do or say. They had prepared themselves to argue and defend their decision. But what could they say to “okay.”

Nathaniel looked at the rest of the students like there were stupid, “I’m still your friend, Marinette.” He got glares.

Adrien nodded, “We’re still friends,” he assured. “Though,” he glared at the rest of class, “Some people should definitely lose my number.”

The statement got shocked looks. No one expected Adrien to side with Marinette. At worst, when the lines were drawn, they expected him to be neutral. They didn’t know the boy as well as they thought. Lila looked dismayed as she had thought the boy to be a pushover.

“I wouldn’t mind a permanent truce,” Chloe offered. The Bluenette and the blond’s had entered into a truce that had slowly turned into a good friendship. “Maybe i’ll take over the spot as the new bestie.”

Marinette snorted.

Adrien glared at his oldest friend, his hair raising on ends; if Alya was officially out of the way that meant technically he had the number one friend spot. He wouldn’t lose it to Chloe. That wasn’t fair! “It’s taken!”

Chloe smirked, “For now!”

Marinette smiled. She would be just fine.

The class, however, wouldn’t.

It took them three days to realize that ending their friendship with Marinette had consequences.

The first time was when in the middle of lunch, Rose let out a happy scream, “Prince Ali is coming back to town. He’s invited me to a fundraising gala for the children’s hospital. This Saturday.” The other girls immediately launched into excited screams.

The four, who had been exiled from the rest of the class, ignored them. Mostly because they were all going to the gala as a well. Adrien because of his father. Nathaniel because his art was being displayed. Chloe because she was Chloe. And Marinette because her great aunt was hosting it.

When four was the first to make it back to class and sat in their seats in the very back; talking amicably, they barely noticed the other students come in. But they did notice Rose when she ran to the back of the class with a huge smile on her face.

“Marinette!” Rose chirped. “I need a dress for the gala; something formal. Something sparkly.”

Marinette nodded, “Have your measurements changed.”

Rose shook her head quickly, her eyes still sparkly as she daydreamed about dancing with Prince Ali.

Marinette opened her bag and pulled out her brochure that Chloe had insisted she get to hand out. It included examples of dresses she previously made and prices for things like dresses, skirt, suits, anything. It had her phone number, her website information; everything. Adrien had gotten tips from his dad about how he started out and relayed them to Marinette. It made her feel like a real designer.

She handed the brochure to Rose, who took it absentmindedly. “Ok, then it would be about $475. $550 if you want the full princess look.”

“Wha-What?” Rose asked confused.

The other students in class looked confused as well apart from Adrien, Chloe, and Nathaniel who bore smirks.

“The dress you’re commissioning,” Marinette said slowly. “The estimated price for a rushed custom dress is between $475 and $550. It would’ve been a bit cheaper but you’re ordering it at the last minute. All my prices are in the brochure; standard for everyone. I would actually just purchase one the designs on my website; it would be less expensive than having me create something specifically for you.”

Rose looked at the brochure, her mind struggling to process. “But you-you always make my dress for free!”

“I didn’t really like to,” Marinette shrugged. “But you guys never really asked you just demanded; like you did when you walked in.” Rose looked a bit ashamed; because yes, she did just demand. “Materials are really expensive. Every free dress or any custom piece I gave out I had to increase the price for the rest of my commissions. It never seemed fair to my other customers. Which worked for me because I opened up my own design studio and office. MDC Designs.” It was in a richer part of Paris; in an unused part of an office building. It had tons of natural light and an amazing view; plus it was private. “Though for some reason, the high price just attracted more people. But you were my friends so I did it anyway. Now we’re not friends so I don’t have to anymore.”

“Rich people,” Chloe explained. “The more expensive something is, the more they want it.” The blond had become Marinette’s social media manager and business manager as well. Because of her MDC was becoming Instagram famous and had featured clothes on various runaways. She always hired all the models.

A devastated look appeared on Rose’s dress; she couldn’t afford a fancy new dress. She didn’t have enough money saved up for one. She never thought she’d have to save money for a dress. Marinette always made anything she wanted.

“And you wonder why no one likes you,” Alya hissed that the two girls.

Marinette leaned back in her chair, “I could make an effort to be liked but I rather be hated than inconvienced.”

“You don’t need her, Rose!” Alix snapped. “We’ll find you much better dress than she could ever make.”

Alya crossed her arms, “And it won’t look as tacky.”

“Good for you,” Marinette said happily, and went back to talking with her friends.

While shopping for Rose’s dress, the girls decided to pull up Marinette’s website so they could make fun of outfits. Unfortunately, they were hard pressed to find anything wrong with the fabulous dresses. Even Lila spotted several she wanted for herself.

Rose didn’t find a better dress than the ones Marinette’s website. At least not one for a price she could afford. She ended up re-wearing an elegant blue dress Marinette had given her the year before for a dance.

Though she had stumbled when The Emily Gilmore, world around philanthropist millionaire, brought her niece on stage and it turned around to be Marinette. Marinette wearing the most gorgeous silver dress Rose, and most of the party guests, had ever seen.

“That is a friend of yours from school, yes?” Prince Ali asked. “I didn’t know there was a Gilmore in Paris. They contribute much to my Go-Green Projects. Will you please introduce me?”

Rose froze. Because no, she wasn’t Marinette’s friend. And it was highly doubtful she’d get anywhere close to Marinette.

“They’re not friends actually,” Chloe said swooping in. “A bit of a falling out. I’m rather close with Marinette though. I’d love to introduce you now if you’re ready. Marinette was the one to get the Gilmore foundation to really take an interest in Going Green. They are always looking for new ideas.”

Prince Ali gave a quick look at Rose, “I’m sure it will not take long. Is it okay with you if I go?” Rose forced a happy smile on her face and nodded. “Thank you!”

Rose was forced to watch Prince Ali offer Chloe his arm.

“I’m surprised you did bring Lila Rossi?” Chloe drawled as they walked away, leaving Rose, alone in the middle of party where she hardly knew anyone. “I’ve heard so much about her own contributions to your Go-green projects.”

“Who is Lila Rossi?” She heard Prince Ali asked. And just like that, a little bit of Rose’s world came crashing down.

It was two days later, before the first bell rang, Alya rushed to Marinette’s desk, with big smile on her face and hope in her eyes. “Did you see the new heroes?” She asked excitedly. “BrightRoar and Killer Bee!” She shot a mean look at Chloe. “I guess you got replaced for being such a lousy hero.” She turned back to the bluenette. “I need another interview with Ladybug, like stat! When can you set it up?”

“I can’t,” Marinette said and went back to pulling out her school books for the day.

“Of course you can,” Alya insisted. “You always do it! You’re the one who got me my first interview with Ladybug and everything.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. Yet another demand. “No, I can’t.”

Chloe tapped her perfectly manicured nails on the desk, “What my best Mari (Adrien growled, “I will end you, Chloe!” Marinette was his best friend. But the other blond had been slowly invading Marinette’s room; leaving clothes and shows. A blanket on the top bunk though she knew Adrien had called dips.) is saying is that it’s not that she can’t, it’s that she won’t.”

“Why not?” Alya stomped her foot. “I need the deets on this now if I’m going to scoop Aurore and her BugOut site.”

“You’re not friends anymore,” Chloe taunted. “Why would she help you?”

“I-well, it just!” Alya struggled to find the right words to say. Because she never considered that Marinette wouldn’t want to help with her blog anymore. Or that she only did it because they were friends.

Marinette sighed, “No. I mean I really I can’t. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t even if I could.” She told her ex-friend and the other classmates listening in. “Ladybug only gave you interviews because we were friends. She always thought you were a bit much. When I told her we weren’t friends anymore, she decided to not work with the Ladyblog anymore.”

“That’s a lie!” Alya yelled.

“Then why don’t you ask Ladybug herself,” Chloe told her.

“I will!”

While Ladybug was patrolling that night it was to no one’s surprise that Alya stood of a roof top of a building and waved the hero down.

“Do you need help?” Ladybug asked the girl kindly once she was on the roof.

“I need an interview!” Alya said, her phone was out and she was live streaming. “Why did you replace Queen Bee? Is BrightRoar a lion or a tiger? Are they permanent?”

Ladybug looked puzzled, “I thought Marinette told you already. I won’t work with you or the Ladyblog anymore.”

Alya stepped back, shocked. “What? Why? I thought she was lying.”

“What did she tell you?”

“That you thought I was a bit much,” Alya growled darkly. “That I only got the interviews because I was her friend. Which was a lie; I got them because I’m an awesome reporter. And she said I wouldn’t get anymore interviews.”

Ladybug shook her head, “Marinette left out a lot of what I said,” At this Alya’s expression turned smug. “I did say you were a bit much. But I also said you’re blog had become a tabloid full of incorrect information that I just couldn’t support anymore. It keeps getting worse every day; I swear if I have one more person asking me about some girl named Lila Rossi, I’ll lose it. I don’t know a Lila Rossi, and she is not my best friend. Also, Chat Noir and I are not and will be never be dating; stop insisting that we love each other. I told Marinette, you were a bad journalist who needed to learn to check your sources and cite where your information. I should’ve stopped dealing with you a long time ago. Honestly, I thought working with you was a bad idea from the start. But I owed Marinette a favor, you are her friend. Oh sorry, I meant you were her friend.”

Alya stood stunned as the words washed over her.

“I wish Marinette wasn’t so nice sometimes,” Ladybug sighed, though Marinette was practically dancing on the inside. “She should’ve told you what I really said. I guess she just didn’t want to be mean. Good luck with everything, Alya.” And with that Ladybug swung away.

It took Alya another five minutes to realize she was still live streaming.

Alya thought she’d wake up to the entire world talking about her encounter with Ladybug but they weren’t. Sure there were dozens and dozens of complaints accusing her of lying to them but nothing to extreme.

Her friends comforted her as soon as she got to class. Alya barely noticed to down in the dumps. Lila had assured her that Ladybug was only trying to protect her which was why she pretended not to know the Italian girl. This relieved one of Alya’s concerns. Still, It was a hard pill to swallow but she realized that technically she owed all of the Ladyblog’s success to Marinette who had helped arrange multiple interviews and convinced Ladybug to work with her in the first place. All because Alya was Marinette’s friend. The Ladyblog was doomed.

Said Bluenette had walked passed Alya’s desk without so much as glance in her direction, instead talking amicably to Chloe.

A few hours later during the middle of a history lesson, every phone in class starting pinging rapidly with new notification to the point where Bustier instructed them to turn off their phones completely.

Bad idea.

“Bugout posted an interview with the entire Miraculous team,” Rose said excitedly.

Everyone was watching the interview within seconds, almost everyone Chloe watched Alya instead; drawing a suspicious look from Adrien. Bustier just sighed and got her phone out as well. To their surprise it wasn’t just four heroes, it was six.

Aurore gracefully interviewed Ladybug and Chat Noir about the coming and goings of everyday hero life. Then ask the big question; who were the new heroes.

“They are the new permanent members of Team Miraculous!” Ladybug announced with a smile on her face. “Killer Bee,” Chloe preened. She had to change her name and costume but she got to keep being a hero. “BrightRoar.” Nathaniel fought not to blush. He still couldn’t believe that Marinette chose him. “Viperion!” Luka had been thrilled to be offered a place on the team. “And Renard blanche.” Aurore had been given the fox miraculous and had created an illusion of the new fox hero so she could do the interview.

“What happened to Rena Rouge and Carapace?” Aurore asked.

“Permanently retired,” Killer Bee sniped. “They’re actions outside the mask were… untasteful. They showed themselves to be unworthy of being heroes. They were fired! At least Queen Bee got to resign with her dignity.”

Alya dropped her phone and rushed out of the room in tears; Nino and a few of her other friends following her. Nearly everyone in class thought it was because Aurore got the interview she had been wanted but four knew the truth.

“let’s take a quick break,” Bustier said softly, already mentally preparing for another akuma attack.

“That was mean.” Adrien told Chloe.

“No that was deserved,” Chloe stated. “Alya tried to get Max to hack into the MDC website and ruin it. I’m lucky Claude runs helped with our internet security or we’d have been screwed. Mean, was me taking your little Cat Bed and tossing it on the pullout. And replacing with it with a comforter set worthy of a Queen.”

Adrien’s eyes widened and he rushed out of the room, probably to Marinette’s to defend his territory. Honestly, Marinette thought, he was behaving more and more like a cat every day.

Marinette gave Chloe a look, “You’re still as horrible and evil as the day that Satan himself placed you in your mother’s arms.”

Chloe preened, “Oh, darling, that’s sweet.”

When Mylene got an amazing idea for a short, she immediately went to Nino to ask if he could direct. He said yes. While in Class, they immediately started making plans and cast roles and assigning jobs to the other members of class. . “We can start filming this weekend.”

“Marinette, you’ll do costumes again.” Nino said quickly. “And food! We need food.”

“No.” Marinette said back.

Nino was so busy making plans that it took a minute to process what she said. He looked up shock. “No? What do you mean no?

“I’m too busy with other commissions to take on your project,” Marinette said easily. “Plus even if I don’t design the clothes myself, there is a consultant fee; not to mention contracts to sign.”

Alya glared, “Contracts? For what? Its a school project!”

“No, it’s not.” Adrien snapped back. “It has nothing to do with school. We’re not being graded or anything.” He reminded them. “Marinette has a brand now. She has to protect it and her clients. That means non-disclosure agreements, security agreements. A contract will lay out just what she is responsible for and what she can bill you for. It keep that waters clear.”

Mylene frowned, “We don’t need all that.”

“You might not,” Adrien said defensively. “But people are starting to recognize MDC all around the world. A contract will stop you from using her name to boost your movie. Or maybe even stop you mentioning her in the credits all together.”

Marinette nodded, “Besides on my website and on the brochure on the class board, it clearly states for big projects like this; I need at least a three month warning. I’m swamped.”

Nino wanted to point out there Marinette always made time before. But he remembered Marinette saying not too long ago that she always made time for her friends. And they weren’t friends anymore.

In the next few weeks and months, the class got used to hearing the word No from Marinette.

Alix asked about getting a banner. Marinette said No.

Alya asked about getting food for the bake sale like always. Marinette told her she’d have to make an order at the bakery and pay for it in advance.

Kim needed a scarf for his mom. Marinette gave him her brochure.

Birthday party planning. Sorry, Marinette no longer provided that service; please review the brochure if further clarification is needed.

So to get back at the Bluenette, the class got her, and Chloe and Nathaniel, excluded from the Class field trips and class parties on the grounds that Marinette caused too much tension in the class. Lila insisted that Adrien would come around.

The four retaliated by no longer helping with any of the fundraising or contributing their own money. If they couldn’t go on the oh so special class trips, then why should they help pay for it? Unfortunately for the class, they had forgotten that a majority of the money donated came from what Marinette raised/Donated and what Chloe contributed.

Bustier’s class trips went from the envy of the school to “oh god, why are they on a farm?” Really fast.

And for every “amazing” trip the class went on and for every party they had, the four hosted their own events that ended up the talk of the entire school.

It took until the end of the school year for Lila to be finally be exposed.

Chloe, Marinette, and Aurore were having a mini spa day in Marinette’s room. Their faces were covered in green mud masks and their hair was in curlers and their wore pajamas.

When Adrien burst in the room, he screamed, “Akumas!”

Marinette through a pillow at his face, “That’s not funny, catboy.”

“Catman,” Adrien corrected with a laugh.

Marinette stated back, “Please! I’m more man than you’ll ever be.”

“Nino texted.” He kept forgetting to block his old friend’s number. “Dude! Lila’s a liar! Alya’s losing it.” He read the text of his phone. “Then five minutes later. Man, we screwed up big time, huh? A minute later. Sorry.”

“About time,” Aurore shook her head. “For a self-proclaimed amazing journalist it took Alya way too long to figure Lila out.”

“She didn’t want to believe it,” Marinette shrugged. “She’s not big on admitting when she’s wrong. Or when she’s gone too far. I admittedly enabled her for a long time.”

“Everyone did,” Adrien frowned.

Chloe rolled her eyes, “The class is going to come groveling back on Monday.”

“Let them,” Marinette narrowed her eyes. “I’m done with fake friends.”

The girls nodded. The low sound of small click got their attention. All eyes went to Adrien who still had his phone out.

Chloe stood up, “I swear, Adrien, if you took a picture of me on your cell phone; I will kill you and eat you.”

Adrien held his ground, “Surrender the top bunk or I post it on Instagram.”

Aurore blinked, and then looked at Marinette confused, “They know this isn’t their room right?”

Marinette face-palmed, “I don’t even know anymore.”

Monday, as Chloe predicted, the class did come groveling back.

Marinette, Chloe, Adrien, and Nathaniel walked into class only to see that everyone had rearraged the seats again to what it was originally before Lila came.

The bluenette nodded, “Time to get serious!”

Chloe and Adrien’s expressions turned cold. Chloe cast a look at the still friendly looking redhead, “Nathaniel, put on your game face.”

Nathaniel quickly tried to look stern.

“Not your gay face,” Chloe hissed. “You’re game face.”

“They’re the same face,” Nathaniel whispered.

Marinette crossed her arms, “What’s going on here?”

Alya frowned, “This is our way of saying sorry. We should have never believe Lila. The rotten liar turned us against you.”

“No!” Marinette shook her head. “Saying sorry is saying sorry. And don’t blame Lila for you chose to do.”

Chloe marched to the back of the class, and glared at Rose and Juleka, “You’re in our seats!”

Rose tried not to panic, “It’s not your seat anymore. You’re up front with Sabrina again.”

“Let’s try this again…” Chloe leaned down, and glared hard. “MOVE!” She yelled.

The girls scrambled out of the chairs.

With a huff, the remaining three walked to the back of the class without another word.

The four sat down and glared at the rest of the class.

“You guys can come on the class trip with us now!” Kim offered.

Nathaniel snorted, “Yeah, i don’t do camping.”

“We couldn’t any way,” Chloe said. “While you’re camping for a week. We’ll be in England for our own class trip.”

She got envious looks.

“We can come with!” Alix smiled. “It’ll be a blast.”

“No,” Marinette said. “We had to save up all year for this trip. We already made reservations. You can’t come. I wouldn’t want you to anyway. It’s too much tension. Why don’t you go find Lila? I’m sure she’d take you back.”

“Girl, didn’t you hear us?” Alya said. “We’re sorry!”

“Oh I know you’re sorry,” Marinette said coldly, “I just don’t know why you think that matters.”

#ml fic #ml salt #marinette dupen chang #adrien agreste #class salt #chloe bourgeois

3K notes · View notes

tickle-bugs · 3 years ago

Text

I had two people ask for some advice on starting up/running a blog, so I thought I’d make a little post for anyone else looking for advice! There’s no one right way to run a blog and I am by no means an expert. This is just a compilation of some of the things I’ve learned :)

Feel free to add advice to this!

- The first thing is something I cannot stress enough. Write for yourself first. You will be absolutely miserable if you’re only writing for attention. I’m not saying it’s easy, but it’s so incredibly important. If you don’t like a prompt, fandom, or scenario? You don’t have to write for it! A personal example: I’m a theatre kid and total musical nerd. I could probably write some compelling Dear Evan Hansen or Hamilton headcanons if I wanted to, but I don’t. That’s fine! I’m allowed to say I won’t write for it and deny prompts/requests for those fandoms.

- Set boundaries. This is a very mixed community with all sorts of creators and participants with hands in different baskets. Don’t want minors to interact? Put minors DNI in your bio. SFW only? Put it in the bio. No RP? Bio. This goes for private conversations/askbox/other interactions as well. If someone comes into your askbox/dms and says something that makes you uncomfy, shut it down.

- My advice is more geared towards writing than art or video, but I suppose you could apply this advice as well. Make what makes you happy! If you’re only in one fandom, feel free to stay there and make content for it. Multi-fandom? Excellent! Completely non-fandom? Epic! Make the content that you want to see and the content that makes you happy to create, especially if you’re in a more niche fandom/area.

- Organization. ...I’ll admit this one is more of a personal pet peeve than something urgent, but it is something that people positively respond to. If you have some sort of consistency/organization to your blog, it’ll make it easier and more enjoyable for people to navigate. Make a fandom list/indicate your fandoms somehow (mostly for prompt purposes. people can’t read your mind, so it’s important to tell them what you will write for and what you won’t, however you want to do that)!

Make a masterpost/link your fic tag! Use a fic tag of some kind. Give your fics summaries and leave a little bit of the fic above the ‘read more’ to intrigue folks (look at #my fics and my masterpost for basic examples of how I do this, if you need!). Use read mores. Please use read mores (if you can, idk if they’re on mobile. regardless no one wants to encounter a three thousand word block of text on their dash). (No seriously though, organize your blog, even if it’s super simple. literally just a ‘mine’ or ‘my fics’ or ‘[pseud] writes’ and a fandom tag. It’ll make it easier for people to find your stuff and support you)

- Practice general internetiquette. Please remember that the people in this community are real people with feelings, boundaries, and lives outside of the blog that they run. Be genuine and people will respond to you! Don’t manipulate people into likes/reblogs/attention. No one wants to be on the other end of that. Being in this community isn’t a transaction or a mosh pit, it’s an experience.

- Be ever-so-liberal with the block button. Someone’s user makes you uncomfortable? They give you bad vibes? They’re a minor/older than you and you don’t want them interacting with your content? You don’t wanna see their blog for some reason? Block em. This goes for anons too. That’s what the button is for. Don’t feel guilty for using it. Use it.

- How you write is 100% a personal choice and not really something that I can give advice on, but embrace your style! take prompts if you want, or don’t. Write oneshots, series, drabbles, or novels. Write romantic, or don’t. Etc. Change things up if you feel like it. Do what you want. Your blog, your style, your rules.

- Numbers matter. Don’t let them define you. This is a bit of a harder one to explain, but I will try. I often say that I don’t care about numbers, and I really don’t, but that’s not to say that I don’t see them and they have zero effect on me. I absolutely notice and am bummed if a fic doesn’t get notes, or at least the notes that I was expecting. That is entirely normal and okay to experience. What isn’t okay, though, is creating for the sake of getting notes/numbers/attention (re: write for yourself first, internetiquette). If you find yourself relying on tumblr for gratification and a reward, I implore you to take a break. I’m not your therapist or your parent, I’m not gonna tell you what to do, but when you make things only for the sake of notes, people notice. Celebrate your milestones. Know that it’s okay to be bummed about low notes/celebrate getting plenty. Just make sure that you don’t depend on the numbers for your happiness, or you will be miserable.

- You’re (probably) doing this for free. You are providing people content: a service. Produce as much or as little as you’re comfy with, but always remember that. No one is entitled to what you make. If someone asks you for headcanons, sends a prompt when prompts are closed, etc, and you don’t feel like fulfilling it? You have no obligation to do that. Getting commissioned is another story entirely, but as long as you’re making free content, you have zero obligation to do anything for anyone and certainly no time constraints. It can take me months to finish prompts, and that’s okay. I do them when I do them and I fill them how I want to. If my prompts are closed, I deny new ones until I’m ready to accept them. Make yourself happy first.

- How you interact with others is up to you! It’s generally considered good practice to like/reblog your mutuals fics/art, but this is not necessarily a hard and fast rule. I veeeeeery rarely reblog fics for fandoms that I’m not in, even from my mutuals. What you can do to show your support (and you should try and show support somehow. No one is in competition. Everyone’s in your boat, whether they have no followers or 1k) is send an ask/reply to the post/leave tags to let the author know you liked it. Like the fic and don’t reblog it, if you don’t want to. Just make sure you show your mutuals (and others in general!) roughly the same support they show you, however you decide to do that. Treat others how you want to be treated, as cheesy as it sounds :)

- Don’t repost content that isn’t yours without express permission from the original creator, and credit them appropriately. If you see a cute piece of tickle art and the artist doesn’t want it reposted? Don’t repost it. Don’t post fics/videos/gifs that aren’t yours (obviously if it’s like a scene from a movie/a clip on youtube that’s different, but don’t take credit for things you didn’t make, including ideas). Can’t tell you how frustrating it is to have work stolen from you. Don’t be that person. ‘Credit to original artist’ and ‘credit unknown’ is total bullshit btw. Link/tag the creator in the original post and make it clear you don’t own the content. Best practice is to ask the original creator if they’re okay with reposting, work inspired by or connected to theirs, etc. This goes doubly for saving/downloading someone’s fics.

- It is not illegal for a minor to have normal, nonsexual, healthy friendships with people older than them. There’s a weird attitude that minors have nothing of value to offer adults besides a relationship/sex, which is...not true? Minors are thinking, living human beings with feelings, thoughts, and opinions. You can talk to them like normal people, because they are. Just obviously don’t talk about/introduce sex or endanger them. Minors don’t bring up sex/activities you’re underage for with an adult. IDK this isn’t a seminar just...don’t be weird. Adults can offer great life experience, support systems, and the basic joys and needs of human connection. Minors can too. Mind your business unless someone’s actually in danger. The next point is a caveat, though:

- If you’re a minor, don’t interact with NSFW blogs/blogs with ‘Minors DNI’, NSFW blogs don’t interact with minors, etc etc. Not your parent or whatever but this is pretty common sense and it’s for everyone’s safety, but especially the NSFW person. internettiquette!

- If you use your TK blog as a side blog (meaning you have another blog as your main blog, not two separate accounts) and don’t want your main exposed, that is up to you. I recommend not liking posts. Also, follow people that you trust. These actions route through your main blog and your main will show up in the notes. You can reblog from a sideblog. If you want to send an ask “as your tk blog”, send an anon and sign it somehow, like ‘hey :) // @/tickle-bugs’. It should tag you in the post so you get a notification when it’s answered!

- Find your people! As an anxious person this one has been hard for me, so I know it’s hard for a lot of people. Fandom is literally a community of shared interest. Peachy and I have an iron bond almost two years later and we met talking over shared interests. You can absolutely find your people here. If someone makes you happy, strike up a conversation! Send an ask! You never know what doors it might open or whose day you might improve :)

- If you were an anon/lurker on someone’s blog and they inspired you to write/submit/start your own, sign your messages!! the common form that I see is either an emoji or [noun/context of the ask]!anon (prodigal!anon (i miss u every day), butterfly!anon, etc.) Let us know how to find and support you!! Those messages produce good brain juice.

- The big finale: Have fun. If you’re not having fun here, maybe you could tweak something to make things enjoyable. Running a blog is like driving a car. Keep your hands on the wheel, respectfully indicate your intentions (flashing lights optional), and be safe. Poebody’s nerfect, y’know. If you make a mistake, course correct. I’m by no means perfect. Your favs aren’t either. Just do your best and have a good time :)

@rosytickles and the anon in my inbox, I hope this helps! Thank you for asking me, I’m very honored that you value my opinon/experience/advice. I apologize if I come off as preachy or aggressive, I envisioned grabbing my younger self by the lapels and shaking me vigorously while I wrote this. Probably a bad idea.

Anywho, hope it helps. Anyone with questions, additions, or comments, my askbox is open! Just be constructive, is all I ask.

#bug speaks #advice tag #sorry again if this sounds preachy or aggressive at any point i literally wrote it like i was grabbing younger me by the lapels #these are all things i learned through experience/observation i promise im not talking out of my ass here #the largest obstacle to maintaining a blog is how you view your happiness in relation to it. talked about it above but yeah.#also like i said: not a professional and not your parent. just giving friendly advice sine i was directly asked for it.#might add more to this if I think of more #my askbox and dms are open for questions/comments/additions just pls be respectful and constructive #other tfb community members feel free to add to this!

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designsfromtime · 4 years ago

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Mixing Business & Friendships:

“Friendship is friendship, business is business.”

It’s been wisely said that, “friendship interferes with a business relationship by keeping people from making the right business choices for the sake of the friendship.” Kind of like closing the barn door after the cow escapes, but yeah, I definitely agree...NOW. There are plenty more witty quotes that warn against the pitfalls of mixing friendships with business. So, what does my dumbass do? - I mixed a friendship with my business. Two years ago I brought a friend to work with me as an apprentice, and it blew up back in March 2021 and bit me in the arse - BIG TIME!

So, why doesn’t it work? - I ask myself rhetorically, then elbow my intuition when it says, “Told you so.”

In my personal experience, mixing friendship with business blurred the professional boundaries, and led to multiple abuses on the part of my “friend,” i.e., calling out sick for “PMS,” or other reasons that would never be acceptable if that person were NOT a “friend.” They also may not respect your authority because the person disciplining them for, let’s say, unacceptable communication, or sub-standard work, is the same person they were drinking with at the pub last weekend, or chilling on the patio for a BBQ. In a word, friends (or family) can take advantage of the relationship and feel that the rules don’t apply to them, leaving you to choose between taking care of the friendship rather than taking care of your business! I could NOT have anticipated the horrific outcome at the end of that working relationship, and it’s left me gobsmacked.

The foundations of friendships (or with a family member) and that of subordinate and superior are inherently different. How does a child act as the superior to a parent they hire to work for them? And vise versa, how does a child work for a parent without dragging their interpersonal baggage into the workplace? The same is true of a friendship. In a friendship, the continued existence of that relationship depends on whether both parties can successfully maneuver the intricacies of a friend being placed in the position of a subordinate. But, in my opinion, I think it’s RARE to truly keep your business relationship and your interpersonal relationship separate. I would venture to say it’s close to impossible. One way or the other, your friendship will bleed into the working relationship and it can spell DRAMA and betrayal in the end. Mixing interpersonal relationships with business involves a lot of compromise on the part of both persons, and if one lacks in communication skills and does not respect boundaries, it’s doomed to blow up in your face, as it did for me. Not only does it bring hardship to the business when the relationship ends, but you lose that friendship.

No matter how close the friendship, when you mix business and friendships, the primary consideration should always be what is best for the business. In a perfect world, the business should be treated as an entity separate from the friendship and that distinction needs to be laid out plainly and diligently protected! – and respected by both parties. What happens when the work relationship becomes problematic because that person is not delivering what was expected? Well, I can tell you this much: When it get’s rough, and it will, you cannot rely on the “honor system” you expect from a friend (or a close relative). To save the business, it can involve losing your friend – More especially if that friend doesn’t respect the boundaries that are inherently different in a business setting than they would be whilst slamming wine-coolers at a BBQ.

I’m sure there are plenty of examples where friends and family members have successfully maneuvered the boundaries of business and interpersonal relationships. That said, not all relationships (or people) are evolved enough to handle being placed in a position as a subordinate to their friend, so it will take careful consideration when, or if, you choose to mix the two. The most important part when mixing business and interpersonal relationships, ESPECIALLY if you are the business owner and you extend a friend an opportunity in your business, is to make sure both of you have similar expectations and values - - AND that you write it out in a contract and have both parties sign it!

Where Did I Go Wrong?: Let me recount the ways.

When my business grew to the point that I could not singularly keep up with the demand for commission inquiries, I put the intention out there in the universe that I needed a very particular person to bring on as an unpaid apprentice (with the intention of them graduating to a sub-contractor). First of all, I don’t get paid by the hour, and therefore, cannot afford to pay an hourly wage. I get paid by the pattern piece, i.e., how many pieces in any respective garment that I physically sew together. Most of the time I take a 20% non-refundable deposit to hold a reservation on my schedule, but I don’t get paid until the commission is complete and ready to ship. So it can take 4 or 5 months before I am paid in full. That meant that any candidate for an apprentice would have to possess a deep passion for costuming rather than money being the motivation. It also meant I cannot afford to pay for “student” work, so any candidate I chose would have to approach an apprenticeship with an attitude of “I’m taking classes.” Unless you take out student loans and grants, students are not compensated for attending class. The compensation as an apprentice in my studio was the opportunity to work side-by-side with someone more knowledgeable, with the expectation that eventually, when said apprentice possess the requisite skills and knowledge, that they can eventually begin to take on work as a “monitored” sub-contractor and bill the client directly for their labor.

In my. . . well. . . let’s just call it for what it was…DESPERATION…I took on an apprentice after becoming acquainted through our local Renfaire. I’d been searching for about two years, so when the opportunity presented itself, I took it as a sign from the universe. Boy was I naïve. This person joined our renfaire as a cast member in the Queen’s household (of which I was an administrator). I noted her impulsivity and propensity to be overly enthusiastic and run with an idea without seeking permission through the established chain of command, but I didn’t question how that would come in to play in our working relationship, or in a relationship of superior and subordinate. Her pattern of impulsivity and disregard for procedure wasn’t interpreted by me as the red flag it should have been. Had I been listening to my instincts rather than the desire to be able to take on more work, this pattern would have served as the warning it turned out to be. I see now in the aftermath of the implosion that took place how it should have been.

Don’t Ignore Red Flags: NOW you tell me!

In the early stages of our working association, she appeared enthusiastic – overly so, resulting in me having to rein her in and reiterate the instructions to: “slow down,” and “ask questions.” I told her if she’d never made a certain item before she needed to stop and ask first rather than blunder through and construct it the way she “thought” it might need to be done, she needed to seek guidance about the way I had established it to be done. I would, unfortunately, end up repeating that same instruction ad nauseum throughout her tenure with me. The longer she worked with me, and more especially after about a year or more when she was allowed to begin to take on work as a subcontractor (which was to be done ONLY in my studio under my supervision), she began to ignore that directive more and more. I found myself in the unique and extremely uncomfortable situation of choosing whether or not to say, “It doesn’t meet the same standards as my work, please do it again,” and feeling hesitant to discourage her or coming off as bitchy or overly perfectionistic for fear of how it would affect the friendship. I walked a fine line between necessary criticism and her over sensitivity to that kind of feedback.

I cannot tell you how MANY times when I was learning to sew at the side of my grandmother she told me, “Pick it out, Chrissie.” It was frustrating, and I would moan in complaint, but I always did it because she was never harsh in her criticism but would explain where I had made the mistake and show me how to correct it. In consequence, THIS is how I teach. I always lead with positive affirmation. But there are some personalities who are overly sensitive to any criticism and no matter how you attempt to moderate your tone, or what medium you choose to communicate, they will take it harshly. It became exhausting maneuvering around her bruised psyche. Any other supervisor would not have made the effort. See where I’m going with this?

I also had deadlines constantly looming that placed me in a predicament of letting work go out that wasn’t “perfect” but was “passing.” I HATED being placed in that situation because I am a perfectionist, and the only way to learn is to learn by making mistakes. But I didn’t have TIME for her mistakes – nor could I afford for her to continue to waste fabrics and supplies! Because of this, a pattern began to develop that became increasingly more problematic. I purposefully took on EXTRA work with the intention of sub-contracting out the labor to her, so I “needed” her help. But by virtue of the friendship, an attitude of “I’ll get it done when I get it done,” began to emerge. Now, I don’t know if that was her actual intention, but it certainly began to appear as such. When I allowed her to take hand sewing home, such as working on the edging of a pair of stays, she began to hold on to the work at home but not actually finish it. I told her that after putting in 6 to 8 hours here in my studio I did not expect her to stay up all night and finish the handwork, but if she took work home there was an expectation on my part that she would return it within a few days. Now she was only in my studio 3 to 4 days a week (at least the last year of her affiliation). While I certainly appreciated when she worked in the evenings after her job as the manager of a Super Cuts, or on the weekend, I did not expect it. But, it became an issue when her turn-around times to complete the hand sewing began to take longer, and longer, and LONGER; spanning weeks at a time!

Now, I should mention just for the sake of reference that I can hand sew the edging on a full pair of stays in about 12 hours. She had worked with me over a year before she felt comfortable enough to tackle a pair of stays. While her hand sewing was NOT as neat as mine (even at the end of the relationship), I did make some allowances for the sake of not discouraging her by picking a part her work. I continually had to check in with myself by asking: is it unacceptable because it looks different than yours, or does she have the capability of doing better? She did make progress in her hand stitching with my instruction, but there were definitely times I asked her to fix it, OR I would pick out her work and redo it. There were times I didn’t tell her, which in hindsight was a mistake on my part. Re-doing her work was NOT an efficient use of my time, nor was it conducive to her instruction, but my clients’ satisfaction is my highest priority, so you can see the conundrum I found myself.

In the end, I was trying to avoid upsetting “her” and not cause more DRAMA because she was intent on a scorched earth scenario to punish me for daring to tell her “No.” Many times I was too hesitant to say anything “in the moment,” but would later ruminate on it after the fact, and THEN a day or so later after scolding myself for being too bloody kind, I would be forced to bring it up and say, “I changed my mind,” or just fix it when she left for the day. I should mention, that if she were not a friend I would have set much stricter boundaries about quality control. So why didn’t I do that with HER? I’m still trying to figure that one out!! It all boils down to two VERY different personality types, and the fact that my communication skills and knowledge about emotional IQ was far more advanced. Rather than avail herself of my knowledge in effective communication she was the type of person who did not respond to “touchy feely shit,” as she called it. More often than not, I feared poking the bear. What would I do if I was too critical and she walked out in a huff or quit? *HEAVY SIGH* So, the problem wasn’t that I didn’t know HOW to communicate, it was how that communication would be received on any given day, or “which side” of her personality showed up that day.

The breakdown of the relationship ultimately occurred when I allowed her to take on a client’s commission for two 18th century men’s court ensembles for an event at Versailles Palace in France. She was actually doing VERY well on lining up the embroidery, and construction of the outer portion of the jackets and waistcoat pieces, UNTIL she decided that she had the RIGHT to argue with my instructions and design aesthetics. I told her, for instance, “Make sure you add a layer of stabilizer to the lining.” She balked and said, “I wasn’t planning on adding stabilizer.” Now this wasn’t a statement with a silent question mark at the end, this was an “I’m not going to do it” kind of statement. This began happening more and more and I was at a loss “in the moment” how to deal with it. I was walking a tightrope between a friend and my business, and I wasn’t putting the business first. Rather than ASK me why I felt the interlining needed to be stabilized (since it was silk) she simply made the decision to ignore my instruction and ultimately bulldozed forward with the work at her home without seeking any instruction and using ad hoc techniques when she ran into a problem she didn’t know how to deal with.

But you see, by the time things began to actively boil, I had finally put my foot down on this project and told her I had the final say in ALL design and construction and If I say “do it” she needs to do it and not argue. I mean, who does that? Who tells the owner of the business “No?” Who thinks they have the right to argue? - A FRIEND. I had 40 years of experience under my belt, 20 in historical costume, she had TWO! But you see, her ego was writing checks her abilities and knowledge could not cash, and I was becoming more and more concerned about the work piling up. COVID did a number on my business. I stayed JUST as busy, but buying basic supplies was problematic, and it put me behind by about 4 or 5 months, which is unheard of for me! I always make my deadlines. ALWAYS.

Things kind of happened quickly, like dominos. One drops and knocks over the the other and pretty soon sets off a chain reaction. THE FINAL implosion came when we ran into a situation wherein we both needed to use my sewing machine. I had stated in the beginning that ALL work done on the machine needed to be done in my studio. This was not just because she did not have a good machine at home, it was so that I could continue to oversee the quality of her work. I have a semi-pro Juki straight stitch machine that will sew through leather. In the past she had talked about one day purchasing one. Also, in passing conversation last year I mentioned that I was thinking of moving out of Washington. My daughter wants to relocate to Vermont because the cost for horse property here in WA would cost us in excess of about 2 million dollars! I mentioned that there was no set plans and that it would be 4 or 5 years if we did make that decision. I mentioned that if by then she was trained enough that I was considering letting her subcontract work at home and use Skype or Zoom for any teaching or instruction. This was just a passing conversation mind you!

So when we found ourselves both in need of using my machine one day in March, without consulting with me she took it upon herself to go out and purchase a machine exactly like mine for about $1400 if I’m not mistaken – even though you can get them much cheaper from other sources. But here’s where her long-standing pattern of impulsivity, disrespect for proper chain of command, and her lack of boundaries came into play. She showed up one Saturday afternoon while I was working in my studio and announced, “Guess what I did?” She then proceeded to inform me that she had purchased a machine of her own. Now, we had discussed this possibility in the past two years but I had stated she would need to bring her machine into the studio. Remember, all her machine work needed to be monitored for quality control. Why? While she was making progress, her work was often inconsistent. My expectation was that she would bring her machine into the studio, but SHE had other plans. I honestly believe she felt because she was doing so well on the outer construction of these 18th century coats that she was READY to solo; and in fact, that was her exact expectation. She set up her new machine at home and in the days following the purchase of her machine (before she was scheduled to appear at my studio the following Wednesday), she began construction on the coat pockets at home without my knowledge and without my guidance.

Now, for those who’ve followed me for a while you might remember that I said I’m extremely intuitive? – which is why I’m so mad at myself for not honoring my intuition and setting hard boundaries much earlier. She’s run roughshod over me for two years now, and I wasn’t having it anymore. I sent her a Marco Polo (a video message app) and I set a hard boundary as I mentioned above. I thought that this mode of communication would make it easier to say what needed to be said because both of us were spared the discomfort that usually followed when I DID speak out. So, after I set CLEAR boundaries about who was in charge, I further explained that if it was her intention to start working predominately at home and only coming into the studio when there was embroidery to do or pick up supplies (YES! I was supplying her with ALL the notions and supplies for construction!) then she needed to know that I was not in agreement with that. I told her if coming to work in my studio wasn’t working for her any longer then we would finish the work on the books, and I would cut back and only take those commissions that I could physically handle. I told her to take a couple of days to talk it over with her boyfriend and we would talk on Wednesday about what she decided.

She came in that Wednesday visibly angry and became insubordinate when I attempted to discuss her assumption that I would agree to her working at home on MY client’s commissions without first seeking my approval. She defended herself by bringing up our conversation last year about her working from home “if” i moved out of state. I told her, “Yeah, four or five years down the road!” But she had just assumed that I would be fine with her moving up that time table. She refused to listen and then proceeded to gaslight me, stating that because I had sent her a message via Marco Polo, rather than waiting until she came in on Wednesday, that our working relationship was OVER. I looked at her in shock and said, “So NOW you’re gas lighting me, turning this around to blame ME rather than accept accountability for your actions?” She then proceeded to THREATEN that if I continued to try to discuss these issues with her she was walking out. She went so far as to gather up the coat pieces and started to pack them up! I was stunned! I said, “So let me get this straight. You’d rather QUIT than admit you were wrong for making assumptions about MY business?” Needless to say, she refused to answer and scowled and pouted like a five year old!

I have to say I was actually relieved that she quit. Her attitude and her attendance had become more and more problematic. I had set a boundary with her back in January when she, once again, texted me and said “Just woke up. I feel like crap.” Now she’d complained the day before that she was having PMS (i.e., premenstrual mood swings) and would call out ONCE A MONTH for that reason. Having had a craw full of her taking advantage of our friendship in such a manner (something that wouldn’t be acceptable in any other professional setting, nor was it behavior she would tolerate from her own employees as a manager at Super Cuts), I texted her back stating: “Me too. I woke up with a migraine. Took two Aleeve and two RedBulls. Soldier on.” That was actually the beginning of the end. She was PISSED that I told her to work through her PMS like I do the chronic pain I live with on a 24/7 basis. She even admitted it. That’s when her attitude began to shift, but it was when she was allowed to work on the 18th century ensembles that she became more increasingly uncooperative and argumentative. There’s a saying in the south that describes that behavior: She got too big for her britches.

She didn’t stay long that Wednesday, and no-showed for her scheduled workday the following day, and the day after, without so much as a courtesy text or a Marco Polo - which was also a long-standing issue! During those two days after she bought her machine and set up her sewing room at her home, she took it upon herself to sew the pocket bags into the coats without my permission and installed them incorrectly! She had one a full ½ inch off from the other. This was the SECOND time she’d made that same exact mistake! Rather than measure carefully and line them up exactly using a tape measure and a ruler, she eyeballed them and messed it up. We had to hide this mistake beneath the pocket flap! These ensembles were going to be worn and photographed at Versailles Palace! Half-assing construction like that horrified me! Now, she’d already installed the pocket bags, which meant the outer coat where the pocket “slit” was installed had been CUT. The only recourse to correcting her mistake would have been to buy more fabric and start over! But now there wasn’t time for that! It took four months for her to embroider those coats because she only comes in three days a week and our relationship had now melted down.

Not only did she mess up the pockets, because she was too busy behaving like a petulant, rebellious child and refused to seek my advice, she ran across a problem she didn’t know how to deal with and she “added” embroidery floss to the underside of the buttonholes because she had ignored my advice to stabilize the lining, and she said the fabric was too flimsy around the buttonholes! It was a spiderweb looking mess!!! Yes, it was in the inside, but had she LISTENED to me initially or asked me what to do I could have offered her a better alternative. Once again, I was placed in the position that I had to consider my deadlines and make a decision if the work was “passable” or if I needed to step in and fix it. Initially I said nothing because the tension between us was so thick you could cut it with a knife. I ruminated on it for a day, then ultimately decided I was FINISHED allowing her to bully me and told her I needed her to bring back the ensembles so that I could inspect them further, because I wasn’t happy with her workmanship. She REFUSED. She said, “you had plenty of time to inspect them previously,” and then proceeded to hold the client’s property hostage and tried to extort the client and me! She demanded she be given the client’s billing information before she would return the ensembles for me to “fix.” She knew more than likely she was going to be held liable for her shoddy work, in fact I told her that I would be deducting my labor from what was owed. I was angry but I tried to be reasonable.

The client agreed to release his billing info if she would agree to return his property to me immediately. I offered to write it on a piece of paper and make the exchange with a neutral third party. She refused all fair and reasonable offers, and stated, “I guess we’re at a standoff.” For two weeks I spent searching for an attorney, but ultimately was told that because there was no contract there wasn’t a great deal I could do. On the flip side, neither could she! Not real comforting when your client’s property is being held hostage and the clock is ticking. She was counting on that! She knew there was a short deadline and that their event in France was fast approaching.

After two weeks wherein she had made no effort whatsoever to cooperate and refused to respond to my texts, the client and I put our heads together and we decided that perhaps she might be more reasonable if HE texted her and in essence sent her a demand letter. She kept demanding his PayPal ID in order to bill him for the work, and we agreed. I wasn’t exactly thrilled with giving in to her extortion, but at the time we had no choice – which she was ultimately counting on. I pause in this telling to state how devastated I was by her vicious 180 degree reversal wherein she turned against me! I was stunned by the depths of her vitriol and the pettiness of her retaliation – simply for having set boundaries with her!

But you see, Karma has a way of sorting things out. Due to COVID my clients received word that their event was postponed, so she had lost her leverage. About the same time as the client received that notice from Versailles, I was made aware of a situation she had created with another client! At the end of 2019, she took on a commission for a mutual friend at our faire to make him a doublet, hat, and shirt. She begged me to allow her to take the lead on that project and I wanted to see what she was capable of producing. So, I stepped back and let her make design decisions and color combination of black with silver embroidery (which the client ultimately wasn’t happy with). She spent the next year or more doing multiple revisions, even starting over with four different sets of sleeves as well as the torso of the doublet, because she didn’t have the knowledge to do a proper fitting. Every time I tried to intervene, she would snap at me. Ultimately, I was in the dark about the client’s dissatisfaction. To put a finer point on it, she actually didn’t allow the client to try on the garment after each revision. He lived close to her so she would just drop it off on her way home, and when I would ask her if she took pictures so I could judge the fit, she lied and said she forgot to take them, and stated the client was happy! He was NOT happy.

In the meantime, after multiple revisions and the garment still didn’t fit, she lied to him and stated, “Christine says it’s as good as it’s going to get,” and essentially abandoned the client who had spent $1100 for a doublet, shirt and hat that DID NOT FIT! In what reality would I ever tell a client that? NONE! So, I offered to make it right for him, and stated I would remake the entire order at my expense. Look, I’ve spent enough time in customer service training to know that statistically speaking one unhappy client will tell TEN other people about their experience, and indeed, unbeknownst to me it was already being whispered about that I had authorized the crap she had produced, so I had to do some quick talking and negotiating because my reputation was on the line! I knew damn well at this stage I would never recover the damages, but I invoiced her anyway for the $1200 (I had to buy fabric @ $30 a yard and other notions).

So, after the “Versailles” client texted her and gave her his PayPal ID, rather than honor her agreement to return the ensembles to me, she raised her demands! She was now demanding that she be allowed for the payment to go through BEFORE she returned the client’s property to me! Regardless of how angry I was, I was still offering to allow her to at least bill for half of her labor, after informing her that the client’s event in France had been postponed for a year. I informed her about the damage I incurred in the interim from the client she had abandoned and told her I would be deducting the $1200 from any outstanding balances she was to bill the clients. Just like all the other fair and reasonable attempts to garner a response, she ignored me.

The client and I let another 24 hours pass, and when she failed to respond, I then wrote and informed her that we decided to cut our losses, that she had over played her hand, and that rather than try to negotiate any further with an extortionist, I would be remaking the client’s 18th Century ensembles and she could keep those she had made - and get NOTHING. I should have felt some kind of vindication over that turn of events, but now I had to set aside 6 months out of my schedule to clean up her mess rather than taking new clients who had contacted me. Let me be clear. I happily made the offer to remake these three commissions, it’s just damned frustrating that it is going to take me a FULL year to recover. Not only did I have to refund one client on my books and cancel the order, but I had to contact ALL 20 clients on my books and explain that I am having to spread out work meant for two people over the next several months, and now half my 2022 schedule is full! - Which means I will have to turn away work!

I’m frustrated yes, but I’m stunned by her callousness and the realization that she was never the person I esteemed her to be. No true friend would have turned on me the way she did and scorched the earth to try to hurt me and my business. And for what? Because she didn’t get her way? So in the end, I not only lost a friend, but I’ve also lost in excess of about $1652 in damages all because I mixed friendship with business.

Don’t be Afraid to Establish or Re-establish Boundaries and Expectations:

It’s not fair to you, nor is it ultimately fair to the friend you bring into your business, not to set strict boundaries up front and revisit them often. Now, I DID have a contract I had drawn up and she did review it, but I relied on my expectation of her trustworthiness rather than my intuition BECAUSE she was my friend. I feared offending her. Surely, she wouldn’t abuse my trust? – She’s my friend! If you can’t trust your friends, who CAN you trust? – Right? WRONG!

If I had it to do over again, I would have had her sign the contract EVEN if she were offended. If she had become offended that would have been a HUGE red flag! I also would have held evaluations a minimum of four times a year wherein I sat down and reviewed her performance with her and communicate where I saw she needed improvement, as well as where I saw she had made progress and I would have put it in WRITING. I would have also insisted she keep a journal of the techniques I taught her. Instead, I kept a running dialog with her with the expectation she would remember and follow them.

In the end I take responsibility for not setting hard and fast boundaries and establishing my position as “the buck stops with me.” Looking back I would make her accountable for every mistake she made.

So, take heed of this precautionary tale. Business and interpersonal relationships do NOT mix. What’s the lesson you might ask? Well, clearly I need to bone up on my self-assertion skills for women, but I will never, EVER take on another apprentice let alone someone who is a friend. This means that my availability will be less, and I will have to go back to being booked out a year in advance. But flying solo is the only way to ensure my clients commissions are of the highest quality.

In the end I think John D. Rockefeller has the right of it: “A friendship founded on business is better than a business founded on a friendship.” I have made “friendships” from clients. They’ve become CLOSE friends as a matter of fact. All of these relationships have worked out with the exception of ONE. I wrote about it here on my blog over a year ago (”When it all goes South”). But bringing friends into your business from my experience is just a recipe for disappointment and will result in the death of that friendship.

Lesson learned universe.

#costume design #costume designer #historical costuming #period costume #18th Century #renfair #outlander #washingtonfaire #tudor #16th century

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years ago

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A Yandere!Takuto Maruki/Reader commission for the very lovely, very patient @furudolove for Persona 5 Royal. I’ve never played a Persona game and I don’t plan to, but I can hope I got the majority of Maruki’s character, in this. He’d so idyllic, and so delusional... He’d make a wonderful Yandere, if I knew a little more about the series.

Word Count: 3.0k

TW: Imprisonment, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, and Isolation.

You could feel every detail of the cot underneath you.

It would’ve been impossible not to. Prominent, pointed springs poked through the thin mattress and prodded at your back, biting into your arms, your legs, any patch of open skin they could find and force themselves into without objection. You took it in, for a moment, your body too sore and your mind too drained to do anything but lay back and let the chilled air wash over you, too cold to be natural, too sterile. When you opened your eyes, you did so reluctantly, but there was nothing to ease your anxiety. Above you was a plain, tiled ceiling, glowing with an artificial light you couldn’t quite name the source of, not unlike the lamp you might place above the cage of a reptile, and the rest of the room seemed to fall into place as your eyes found it, a desk and a pair of chairs coming into existence as you struggled to comprehend the world you’d fallen into. They were white and unmarked, your bed bolted to a floor speckled with grey dots. Like the presidential suite of a freshly renovated asylum.

You weren’t certain where you were, but you were sure you’d never been here before.

And you knew you didn’t want to be any longer than you had to.

Slowly, you pushed yourself up, your back aching under the strain, protesting any slight shift, as if you’d fallen too far and landed too suddenly. A similar pain was quick to make itself known in the back of your head, and thoughtlessly, you brought up a hand to try and soothe the knots of pressure tying themselves in the back of your skull. You hissed as your fingertips made contact with the worst spot, the area tender, bruised, but you didn’t have much time to investigate.

As soon as you’d begun to examine the area in earnest, there was a hand around your wrist, pulling your arm away gently and hesitating to release it when you failed to resist. Your attention turned to the man now standing above you, and suddenly, you were startlingly aware of just how muddled your mind had become, how difficult it was to formulate any thought beyond general observations about your current predicament. His features, although vaguely familiar, were blurry, unfocused, and you couldn’t bring yourself to try to put a name to his face. You didn’t have to, though, not when his voice was more than enough to identify him.

“You shouldn’t push yourself,” Your counselor, Takuto Maruki, explained. “I’d hate to see you hurt yourself this early on.”

You opened your mouth, but he was quick to hush you, letting your hand fall into your lap and repositioning himself, smiling as he lowered himself to your height. It was all you could do to stare in his direction, a million questions playing on your tongue, the least indescribable of which had to do with his attire, suddenly too formal, and the grin he was barely trying to conceal, wide and welcoming, only broadening at the slightest hints of your acknowledgment. “I know this seems strange,” He began, his speech rehearsed, as if he’d been preparing it while you were unconscious. “But there’s no reason to be afraid, anymore. You’re in a better place, now, a better reality, one where you can be what you’ve been trying so hard to be, with my help.”

“I don’t understand,” You whispered, drawing your knees to your chest, your voice smaller than you’d like it to be. The creak of the ancient bedframe threatened to drown it out. “I can’t… You want me to change?”

“I want you to be what you’ve always wanted to be.” This time, when he took your hand, he held it close to his chest, a wide, self-satisfied smile spreading across Maruki’s lips. As if he couldn’t be more proud, and expected you to be just as exultant. “You’re in so much pain as you are, (Y/n). I want to take that away. I’ll satisfy your desires, make you the person you want to be. Assertive, brave, confident.” He paused, squeezing your hand a little too tightly for the gesture to go unnoticed. “We’ll rule this place together. You’ll have everything you’ve ever wanted, and I’ll have you by my side. We’ll be happy.”

You blinked, once, twice, your gaze flickering from your knees, to the ground, to Maruki’s face, still alight with anticipation as he waited for your answer. You could only think to say the obvious.

“I’m sorry, but… I’d rather not.”

Maruki visited twice a day.

Or, it felt like twice a day, at least. It was difficult to tell, when the sky outside your windows was always dark and the lights were always on, remaining bright and untouched regardless of how many times you threw your few, meager possessions towards the unfaltering ceiling. You were given books to occupy yourself with, games and consoles to play them on, but the hours were long and he seemed to be the only company you were allowed. You were tempted to complain, but it was difficult to find your voice, when he was around. When anyone was around, really, but you tried not to think about that. Not when there were so many other things to keep your concern yourself with.

For example, the location of your prison, relative to the world you should be a part of. And, preferably, how you got back to the latter of the two.

When you asked, you didn’t dare think. You swallowed your nerves and spit out the words, keeping your eyes narrowed on the pad of lined paper in front of you. Maruki had handed it over the moment you expressed an interest in the object, but you had yet to decipher its contents. To you, it just seemed like a list of names, only a handful of which you recognized. “Where am I?”

“It’s complicated,” He answered, automatically. As if he’d expected you to ask this question sooner. “It’s… It’s my perfect reality. One where everyone can be exactly what they want to be, and have everything they long for. There’s more of it than-” He motioned vaguely around the room, clearly unimpressed with its contents. You couldn’t say you blamed him. “-this, but I didn’t want to smother you. I know how overwhelmed you can get, sometimes.”

“I’m working on that,” You mumbled, immediately longing to take it back. If anyone knew what you were working on, it was Maruki, the man who you considered to be one of your closest confidants less than a week ago. He was a kind man, and you’d trusted him… You still trusted him, honestly. It was impossible to stop, once you’d already allowed yourself to open up. “And there’s no way out of… ‘your reality’, is there? Without your help, I mean.”

Maruki took offense to that. He’d been seated at your desk, for the duration of this visit, maintaining a professional distance, but he stood when you brought up the topic of leaving. You heard a sigh as soft, measured footsteps made their way to your side. He hadn’t tried to close the distance between you two since you first woke up. Rather, he slid onto the end of your bed, his back coming to rest against the barred footboard, his legs left to intermingle with yours in the space between. It felt intimate, and as if by instinct, you were against it. “I don’t want you to feel like your a prisoner--”

“I am a prisoner,” You interrupted. “I can’t leave, so I’m a prisoner.”

“You’re a guest.” He sounded disappointed, but firm, his eyes flickering over your face and attempting to meet yours. You looked away, once again attempting to focus on his many, nonsensical lists. “I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to make you happy. I can make people different, here, and I can make you different.” He finished with a bright, broad smile, only realizing his mistake a moment after your hurt became palpable. “Wait, that’s not what I - You won’t be different. You’ll be what you’re meant to be.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, beaming forward like there was nowhere in the world he’d rather be. “Nothing about you will change. If anything, you’ll be more you than you are now. Everyone here is. I can show you around, if you let me help you.”

“If I let you control me.” He opened his mouth, ready to provide another repetitive rebuttal, but you didn’t let him, biting the inside of your cheek as you fought to continue. “That’s what it is, right? You know I won’t fight, not once you’ve got me trapped in your little, perfect daydream. The only thing I can’t think of is why you don’t just-” You waved a hand in some vague, arbitrary gesture, attempting to vent your frustration physically. The effects were minimal, at best. “-do it, already. If this was really your reality, you wouldn’t keep asking for my consent.”

“It has to be your choice.” The declaration wasn’t triumphant, or altruistic, or anything less than pained. As if it hurt him to admit it. “I know you need to make progress. You want this to be your accomplishment, and I’m not going to take that away from you. I want you to be proud, (Y/n), I do, but I can help. This can be our achievement. I can make it so--”

“So I forget I hate myself?” Before you knew it, you were on your feet, your fists clenched at your sides and your vision red. You were angry. There wasn’t a point in denying it, why would you? He was the only person you’d spoken too in weeks, and it wasn’t like there was much to discuss. You had no one to protect your reputation from, and you refused to strive to prove yourself to Maruki. He didn’t deserve that. Regardless of how badly he wanted to try to act like he did, he didn’t. You were sure of that.

You had to be sure of that.

“I don’t want to be some brainwashed doll you can tow around as a shining example of how wonderful your fucked-up therapy is. I’m not who you want me to be, I’m not who I want me to be, I’m me. I have to be the one to deal with that, even if I have to do it on my own. There’s no quick-fix, or magic solution, or ‘cognitive wrap’, whatever you’ve been calling it. That’s not what I need.” You gasped, if only to stop yourself from losing your temper. You’d started to pace without realizing it, and when you came to a stop, you were facing one of the dull, white walls. It was fitting, you guessed. You didn’t want to see his response, not right away. “Remember the first time we met? When I went to you for advice?

His reply was delayed. It came with a soft exhale, ragged, but tamer than yours. Nostalgic, even. “You shook like a leaf. How could I forget?”

“I was terrified,” You admitted, letting a fraction of the tension in your body dissolve. “I was in a bad place, and it took me days to scrape up the courage to tell someone about it. If you’d made your offer then…” You let out a sad, breathy laugh, the sound as humorless as it was dry. “You said I had to believe I could make progress before I relied on anyone else. That’s what I’m doing. You can’t guilt me for following your advice.”

There was a beat of silence, a moment where you genuinely could’ve thought he’d begun to understand. Then, Maruki opened his mouth, and you were snapped out of that fantasy as abruptly as you’d been thrown into it. “I loved you back then, too. As much as I do now. If I could’ve done anything to end your suffering, I would’ve.”

You didn’t hesitate, your voice just loud enough for him to hear. “I think you should leave.”

“(Y/n), I--”

“Please, Takuto,” You interrupted, your nails beginning to dig into your palms. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

There was a huff. A sigh. But, you didn’t look over your shoulder until the metal-plated door had swung shut, a lock clicking into place from the other side, leaving you more alone than you had been before he made his daily visit.

For whatever reason, you had a feeling you wouldn’t be getting a second, that day.

Isolation was a tenuous thing.

You couldn’t keep track of time. Not here, not in this room, not when the sky never changed color and you never really felt hungry or thirsty or much of anything at all, if it didn’t have to do with Maruki and his ‘perfect world’. But, after your first real argument, Maruki had stayed away long enough to make his absence known, rather than just a particularly long lapse between tense encounters. It might’ve been a day, a week, a month, but you didn’t care about the specifics.

It was long enough to make you miss him. You supposed that was all that mattered.

There was a unique intimacy in the hand he rested on the center of your back, the steady fingers of a practiced professional rubbing slow, deliberate circles into the space just below your shoulder-blade. He hadn’t gotten this close before. He could’ve, you wouldn’t have had the courage to stop him, but after so much time spent alone with your own thoughts, this was the first time you truly embraced his presence by your side, his knee almost touching yours. Anything to make it feel like you weren’t trapped inside your own head.

He allowed you to sit in silence for a moment or two, your face buried in your palms and your legs crossed, keeping you perched on the edge of the bed, allowing you to wallow in your own self-pity and a fraction of his, too. Maruki didn’t seem to mind. He smiled, the expression nothing short of nurturing, pushing you a little close to the cliffside between you and the flawless, guilt-ridden submission he so very much to shove you towards. The way he spoke wasn’t any better, just as kind. As sickeningly tender as the rest of his facade. “I pushed you too far,” He admitted, a half-hearted laugh lacing the edges of his confession. “Too much ground to cover, never enough time. I should’ve let you think.”

You sighed, the sound desolate, miserable. A poor imitation of something that should’ve brought relief. “It’s not… It’s not just that. I’d never really adjust to…” You trailed off, swinging your legs over the cot’s side, kicking idly at the well-scoffed tiles. “...Whatever this is. Maybe you should work on that. Make a Visitor’s Center for your next abductee.”

“I’ll make you the host,” He added, prodding your side with an elbow. “My offer still stands, if you’ve changed your mind.”

You leaned against him. You leaned against him, and you rested your head on his shoulder and you let out another labored, languid sigh, somehow more sorrowful than your last. “I think you know what I’m going to say, Takuto.”

His collected grin pressed against the top of your head as he pushed a kiss into your scalp, a gentle hand coming up to draw you into a one-sided hug. You allowed it, indulged it, even, smiling up at him as he pulled away. Maruki took his time standing, stretching idly and holding out a single hand, letting something long and golden appear in his palm, a staff that tapered off into a sharpened point on one end, and sprouted into a shining, petaled star on the other. You were shocked for a moment, both by the gaudiness of the object and how wrong it seemed in Maruki’s hand, but you didn’t have much time to linger on the new addition. Not when he was so quick to draw your attention away.

“I think I’m too nice to you,” He started, still facing the furthest wall. “That’s the common factor. I get ahead of myself, and then I try to make it up to you with time and understanding and all the things I assume you’ll want. That just makes you hostile, though. I’ll try something different, next time. Something less… personal. On my end, at least.”

There were a dozen things you could’ve said. Accusations, questions, everything in between and a handful of options you hadn’t thought of, yet. But, as soon as you opened your mouth, your eyes were closing, your body collapsing and a supreme sense of exhaustion washing over you, traveling hand in hand with dizziness and every other sensation that could’ve urged you to sleep. Every other tortuous thing Maruki could’ve forced onto your mind to bend you to his whim.

You felt yourself fall to the floor just as your vision went black.

You woke up on a cot that squeaked when you moved.

It was an awful noise, rusted out and worn down, and it only got worse as you forced your body to move, pushing yourself into a more respectable position with arms that didn’t want to cooperate. They ached, argued, screamed, and you had a feeling they would creak too, if they could. The room around you was blurry, blurry and smudged and alien, and you realized rather numbly that you didn’t know where you were.

You realized you didn’t know where you were, and alarmingly, you realized you didn’t care.

You didn’t have to. There was already a familiar face at your side, one hand clamped around your bicep and the other resting on your shoulder, holding you up when you failed to do so yourself. It was your counselor, Takuto Maruki, smiling as brightly as ever.

“I have an offer for you,” He said, once you’d regained your balance. “One I have a feeling you’ll like.”

Without thinking, you found yourself nodding along.

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kookie-for-you · 5 years ago

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You Take Care of Him When He’s in Bad Condition

TW: Eating Disorder

Masterlist

Scenario:

You hurry through the BigHit Building, heading for the practice room you know the guys are working in today. One of your boyfriend’s members texted you, telling you to come quickly. Apparently your boyfriend was in bad condition and they needed your help in some way or another. You had dropped what you were doing immediately and raced over in record time.

When you found yourself in front of the practice room door, you paused for a second to take a breath and then rushed inside.

Kim Seokjin/Jin:

Seokjin’s face is the first thing your eyes settle on in the room, and your heart is relieved when you see the big smile he is sending your way. That relief is short-lived however, when you notice he is laid out on the couch with several staff members crowded around him.

“Ah, Y/N!” he called as you hurried to his side. He held up his hand to take yours as you crouched next to his head, the charming smile still not leaving his face. “They told me they’d called you. I would have said there’s no need, but I selfishly wanted to see your beautiful face anyway.”

“What have you done now, Seokjin?” you demand, looking more to the staff and Bangtan members who are gathered around.

Seokjin waved his free hand around as though to wave away your question. “It’s nothing, it’s really nothing—” He cuts himself off with a strained gasp of pain, his face contorting as he holds it in. Your eyes widen and you look from him to the staff, demanding anyone answer you.

“Don’t move around too much, hyung,” Namjoon said, in a tone of voice that suggested he’d said this already. “You’ll strain your back worse.”

You sigh, looking back to Seokjin. “Your back again?” you say sadly. “What did you do?”

Seokjin smiles again, though it’s less overly charming and more wistful. More genuine. “Just practicing. I guess I turned too much. I’m getting old, you know? I should be more careful.”

“Be quiet, oppa, you’re not that old,” you scold him, running your hand up and down his arm soothingly. You knew how much his back could hurt him, and to have strained it again he was probably in a great deal of pain.

“The chiropractor has time for him in an hour, and we’ve already given him some painkillers,” one of the staff members said. “He should be in good enough condition to move in just a little while.”

You nodded, your focus mainly on Seokjin. If this injury put him out of commission this close to a comeback, he would be devastated. You knew your focus for the foreseeable future would be helping him recover.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Min Yoongi/Suga:

Your first surprise was how dark it was in the practice room. All the overhead lights were turned out, and it was dead quiet. The sound of the door closing behind you seemed to loud. You could only see where the boys were from the row of cell phone glows against the far wall where the sat.

“Where’s Yoongi?” you asked, and at least three separate voices shushed you. One of the boys stood up and as he approached you could see it was Seokjin.

“His head is hurting him,” Seokjin whispered. He gestured to the far corner where you could barely make out a lump that you presumed was your boyfriend. “He refused to see the medical staff and it made him too nauseous to move any further than the sofa.”

Namjoon joined you now, nodding. “We forced him to take some pain medicine, but that usually doesn’t do much does it?” he asked.

You sighed and shook your head. “Not when it’s this bad. I should have noticed he was starting to get a migraine, but I was in such a rush this morning to get to my errands.

“The managers suggested we call you, maybe you can get him to go home, or at least get him to his studio so we can continue to practice,” Seokjin said, though he didn’t look pleased at the thought. You knew very well that none of the boys liked to practice without all of them well enough to join.

You nodded, then walked over towards the sofa as softly as possible. Your heart began to break more and more as you got closer and could make out Yoongi’s huddled form. He was curled in a ball on the couch, eyes tightly shut, both hands clutching his head against what you knew was agonizing pain.

Carefully, you knelt beside the sofa. “Yoongi,” you said, your voice barely even a whisper. Even still, his eyes twitched as though the sound were painful. “I’m sorry. I know it hurts. Do you think you can move? We don’t have to get all the way home. Let’s just get you down to your studio and you can rest on the sofa there.”

Almost imperceptibly, the movement was so slight, Yoongi nodded. You sighed with relief. “Can you walk, baby?” you asked, running your cold hands along his neck, knowing that could help relieve the pain for a moment. His eyes relaxed momentarily as you did so. “I can get Namjoon or Jungkook to carry you?”

“I can walk,” he murmured, the barest of sounds, his voice rough with repressed pain. “It’s a little better now.”

“Okay,” you said, letting your hand rest on his. “Just take my hand when you’re ready. We’ll go slowly, I promise.” You waited there until he was ready to take your hand.

Jung Hoseok/J-Hope:

The practice room was full of action by the time you walked in. You were startled by the amount of staff in the room, even more than normal. It took you a minute to even locate the guys in the mess.

“Y/N!” you heard Taehyung call to you. He waved you over to where they were gathered. You rushed over to find that they were gathered around Hobi, who was seated with his right foot elevated onto another chair. “Here she is, Hobi-hyung.”

You could see that Hobi’s eyes and cheeks were red from shedding tears. “Jagi,” he said, a bit thickly. Alarmed, you knelt beside him immediately. “Ah, jagi, it hurts.”

“What happened?” you asked, looking down to his ankle. You were shocked to see how swollen it was, even around the ice packs that staff were holding there for him. “Hobi, what happened?”

“He was showing us the new dance, and he jumped and…and he just didn’t land right,” Namjoon explained, running a hand through his hair. “We’re not sure if it’s broken or just really badly sprained.”

“Why aren’t you at the hospital yet?” you demanded.

“Hyung wouldn’t go until you were here,” Taehyung explained. Jimin nodded solemnly next to him—all of the members looked absolutely grave. An ankle injury for their lead dancer was a serious thing, and to see their best friend in pain was agonizing for them as well.

“Oh, Hobi,” you scolded lightly, running your hand through his hair, pushing his bangs away from his sweaty forehead. “You need to see a doctor.”

“I wanted to see you first,” he said, sniffling. You knew he was an emotional person, but you still felt he was even holding back considering the pain he probably felt.

“I would have met you there! It doesn’t matter. I’m here now, so let’s get him to a doctor,” you said, addressing the room as though you were in charge. Everyone rushed into action at your words and Jungkook stepped forward to lift Hobi into his arms.

Hobi let the maknae carry him without any protest. “Don’t leave, jagi,” he begged, and your heart cracked at the fear in his voice. You knew that he was probably more scared than in pain right now—scared that he would be too injured to dance.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assured him, keeping up with Jungkook’s long-legged stride as Hobi was carried out of the studio. You were going to be with Hoseok every step of the way, no matter what it took.

Kim Namjoon/RM:

The sound of vomiting was unpleasantly the first thing you heard. Wincing, you turned towards the noise and found your suspicions to be correct—Kim Namjoon was sitting on the sofa puking into a tiny trash can.

“What—” You couldn’t even finish your question as you rushed to sit by him, placing a hand on his back comfortingly.

He gasped for breath as he finished throwing up, a fine layer of sweat covering his face. “W-what are you doing here?” he asked.

“We called her Joon,” Seokjin said, standing off to the side with arms folded. Most of the guys were gathered a distance away—Hobi was nearly all the way across the room with headphones on. You were honestly surprised he still managed to be in the practice room.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

Yoongi snorted. “Kid, you’re puking your guts out. You need to go home, and she’s here to take you.”

Namjoon weakly waved that statement away. “I probably just ate something funny. I’ll be fine once I’ve got it out of my system.”

“You said that two buckets ago, hyung,” Jungkook reminded him as he came over with a fresh trash can, taking the one in Namjoon’s hands with a wrinkled nose.

“Joonie, were you feeling sick this morning?” you asked him, running your hand across his forehead, wiping the sweat away. He didn’t feel overly warm, only slightly heated from the effort of vomiting.

“Oppa is fine, babygirl, don’t worry,” Namjoon said in a voice that would have been convincing if he didn’t immediately follow it by gagging into the trash again.

“Please get him out of here,” Seokjin begged you. “Force him to rest. He can’t have anything left in his stomach at this point so your car should be safe.”

You nodded, and rubbed at Namjoon’s arm. “Oppa, I think I should take you home, all right? If you can’t even stand long enough without wanting to puke, you’re not going to be useful here.”

Namjoon sighed. You could tell he was conflicted. On the one hand, he wanted to be a strong lead and be there for his members. On the other, he obviously wouldn’t let any of the members practice in this condition, so he should set the example that he wanted them to follow. Oh, not to mention, he clearly felt like garbage.

“All right,” he said weakly, setting down the trash can with shaking hands. You stood, helping him up with both hands on one of his arms, and Yoongi on his other side.

“I’ll help you down to your car,” Yoongi offered.

“Thanks hyung,” Namjoon replied, closing his eyes as the movement made his stomach churn again, but he managed to keep himself together. “And thank you Seokjin-hyung. Tell Jungkook thank you as well. And tell everyone I’m sorry.”

“Just get some rest, Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin said with a gentle smile, before walking over to the rest of the guys to update them on Namjoon’s condition.

You brushed Namjoon’s hair from his eyes again, giving him an encouraging smile. “Let’s get you feeling better, oppa,” you said, before starting the shaky journey to the car.

Park Jimin/Jimin:

A staff member brushed by you out the door as you entered, taking your attention for a second, but then you looked back at the room. The guys were gathered around the sofa in the corner, upon which—you realized with your heart dropping—Jimin was laid out. Namjoon raised his hand to wave you over.

“Y/N,” Jimin said weakly as you rushed over. He attempted to sit up, but Hoseok kept an insistent hand on his shoulder to keep him laying down. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“What happened?” you asked. Jimin was pale, his face glistening with a layer of sweat. You rested your hand on his forehead and found no fever, but his skin was clammy.

“Nothing, they’re overreacting,” Jimin said, rolling his eyes.

“He collapsed,” Hoseok corrected, looking at you with seriousness in his eyes. “You tell us if we’re overreacting.”

“Jiminie!” you exclaimed, standing up in shock. He followed you up, brushing past Hoseok’s hand to sit up abruptly.

“Y/N, I…” he trailed off as he started to sway, the sudden movement doing bad things for his currently delicate equilibrium. Six sets of hands reached out to steady him and help him lean back to recline again.

You buried your face in your hands, fighting back tears at seeing Jimin look so weak. “Jiminie, you said you had this diet under control,” you murmured.

“He is dieting again,” Jungkook exclaimed, standing up from where he’d been crouched at Jimin’s feet. “I knew it.”

“How can you let him diet without keeping a closer eye on him?” Taehyung demanded. You looked up at him, surprised to see his angry expression directed at you. “You know how he can get. We’ve trusted you with him since he moved in with you.”

“I—” You didn’t know how to respond.

“Don’t you yell at her, Kim Taehyung,” Jimin said with surprising force. “It’s not her fault. And for the record, I am being healthy.”

“That’s hard to defend when you just passed out in dance rehearsal,” Seokjin said sternly, folding his arms over his chest. “Don’t try and convince us it’s a coincidence.”

Jimin shut his eyes for a moment. “Maybe I skipped a couple of meals the last few days. But it was only a few.”

You shook your head, fighting back tears. “Jimin, we’ll talk about it later. For now, we’re going home.” You looked back to Taehyung. “Will you let me take him home, or am I not trustworthy enough?”

Taehyung looked chided, and seemed to be feeling some remorse for his outburst at you. “Take him home,” Namjoon answered for him. “We know you can take care of him. And we’ll all be over after practice for a group talk, got it?” That last part he directed to Jimin, who nodded meekly.

You knelt beside Jimin again. “Can you walk yet, do you think?” you asked. Jimin nodded again, sitting up slowly, resting his head in his hands and accepting a drink of water from the bottle that Yoongi held to his lips. He stood up slowly, wobbling a bit before finding his footing. You took his arm to help steady him.

“I’m sorry, jagi,” he whispered to you, and his eyes meeting yours were truly so apologetic you thought you might cry again from the sight.

“You’ll be all right, Jiminie,” you told him. “We’ll be okay.”

Kim Taehyung/V:

The room was quiet when you came in. You could see the guys gathered around, some of them sitting against the mirror. Tae was at the center of them, his knees drawn to his chest and arms holding them there, Jimin with his arm wrapped around him.

“Tae?” you called as you walked over. He looked up at you and you felt your eyes widen to see his face. His cheeks were tear-stained and his eyes were red. “What’s going on?” you asked, stopping outside the circle of BTS members.

“Jagi,” he said, voice rough. “My mom called. My dad…he’s sick. Mom said he had a heart attack. They’re at the hospital now.”

Your heart dropped. This was probably the worst thing that could happen to Tae. His family was the most important thing in the world to him. “Tae, I’m so…” You couldn’t even finish that thought. You couldn’t say you were sorry, because it wasn’t enough. Not for this. “What do you want to do?”

“Manager-nim already said he can go and have as much time off as he needs,” Namjoon said, looking back at you from his spot on the floor. “We’re between comebacks and have no urgent schedules for a week.”

You nodded. “Let’s go then,” you said to Tae, knowing what he needed to do right now. You reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly. “It’s okay,” you whispered to him, hugging him back. “Let’s go, we’ll get packed, we’ll get Tannie, and we’ll start driving. We can be there in a few hours.” You felt Tae nod against your head, and pulled away.

“Thank you for calling me,” you said to the guys. They all made soft sounds of confirmation, some waving and gesturing. “I’ll keep you guys updated, all right?” You knew that they wanted nothing more than to be with Tae through this, but it wouldn’t be right for all seven members of BTS to crowd into Tae’s father’s hospital room.

Once out of the practice room, you’d made it halfway to the elevator before Tae suddenly stopped you. “Jagi, I…” He cut himself off, shaking his head and bending over, placing his hands on his knees. “Jagi, I can hardly breathe right now. What do I do? What will I do if…if my dad…?”

You leaned down, placing your hands on Tae’s cheeks, tilting his face back to look at you. “Tae, sweetie, just breathe. All you can do right now is breathe, and go be with your family. You’re so lucky that you’re getting to do that. Let’s go get our things and your dog and get out there. Your dad will be okay.” You felt a little nervous adding that last part, because you couldn’t promise that. But it was what Tae needed to hear to keep moving.

Tae took in a deep breath, nodding and standing up straight. “I don’t know how I could do this without you, yeobo,” he said, hugging you again. “I can barely think. Thank you for being here for me.”

“Always, Tae,” you murmured into his chest. “Always.”

Jeon Jungkook/Jungkook:

There was yelling happening in the dance studio. “Jeon Jungkook, sit down right now or so help me—” That was Seokjin, and if you were Jeon Jungkook you’d have been following the words coming out of his mouth because he sounded angry.

However, the actual Jeon Jungkook was much more stubborn than you. “Hyung, I’m fine! Leave me be!” Your eyes fell on Jungkook as he flipped his bangs from his forehead, and you could see the deep flush across his face. His eyes met yours and filled with confusion, then annoyance.

“Hyungs!” he whined, leaning back to stare at the ceiling. “You called my girlfriend on me? I’m not even sick!” However, contrary to that statement, a coughing fit overtook him, practically rocketing his body backward as he very nearly overbalanced.

His six hyungs were in various places around the room, all apparently in some state of anger, annoyance, or worry. “Y/N it’s good you’re here,” Namjoon said, shaking his head as he came to greet you. He folded his arms and gestured to the maknae, who still stood defiantly in the center of the room, arms now folded across his chest as his coughing abated. “He’s stubborn and you know that.”

“I do,” you agree. “What’s wrong?” You asked this as you strode forward, towards the mentioned stubborn maknae, hand already reaching out with the intention of landing on his forehead.

Jungkook expertly dodged your hand, waving it away. “Y/N, I’m fine,” he said. “They shouldn’t have called you here. They’re just delaying when we could be practicing.”

Jimin threw his hands in the air and walked away, clearly not wanting to lose his temper. “Jungkook-ah, you’re sick,” Taehyung called out, walking backwards and turning his attention to calm Jimin down.

“It’s a cough, hyung,” Jungkook whined. “I already said I won’t sing, just let’s have dance rehearsal!”

“You’re running a fever, Jungkookie, I could feel the heat coming off you just by sitting beside you,” Seokjin stated. The eldest and the youngest faced off, staring daggers at each other. You took that moment of distraction to place your hand on Jungkook’s face, gasping when you felt the heat yourself.

“Jungkook, you’re burning up!” you exclaimed, even as he pulled your hand off of him. “How are you still standing?”

“I said I’m okay, Y/N-noona, really,” he insisted, but you could see something in his eyes had slipped. His lashes fluttered and for a second his knees seemed to give.

All of the boys shouted, each running forward to assist you as Jungkook’s weight fell on you. Jungkook seemed to catch himself before he fully collapsed, but grabbed your shoulder with his hand to steady himself as the hyungs made to support him.

“Jungkookie, you are not fine,” you say firmly. “I’m taking you home and putting you to bed before you pass out and make yourself even sicker. Understood?”

Jimin and Taehyung exchanged a look. “I’d listen to her, Jungkookie,” Jimin commented. “She’s scary.”

“Noona,” Jungkook murmured, his voice weak suddenly, as though all the fighting had finally taken the last bit of energy out of him. He sighed and nodded. “Please take me home.”

You rubbed your eyes, frustrated yet relieved by the turn of events. Jungkook was so stubborn that he would keep his position until he was literally forced not to—for him to give in meant he was feeling really awful at this point. “Yes, Jungkookie,” you said, as Seokjin wrapped his own jacket around Jungkook’s shoulders and Hoseok brought over the maknae’s backpack. “Noona is taking you home.”

Masterlist

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shutupandshipit · 4 years ago

Text

Sharpen your blades - Ch.3

Summary: “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

The thinning of Aizawa’s patience was evident in the twitching of his brow. “If you stop asking questions, maybe I could finish explaining.

”With a huff and roll of his eyes, Katsuki glanced away from their coach.

“City Hall and the SC want us to give them more variety. We are a team solely made up of single skaters. Every year, we dominate the rankings for single skate while Shinketsu dominates the pairs, so this year both cities are being required to split their skaters evenly between singles and pairs with at least one pair coming from out top five.” There was a collective intake of breath, but no one commented, choosing instead to remain silent. “Unfortunately, for us, it’s a lot easier to switch from pairs to singles. With our male to female ratio, alpha/beta/omega ratio, and those of you actually experienced with pair skating, we’re at a disadvantage. So, I’ve decided to choose your partners for you.”

…..

Or where Katsuki and Izuku are forced to be partners so they can continue to compete, but the blood in the water may be thicker than anyone realized.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T

Chapter: 3/20

Previously <- Chapter 2: Refusal

Chapter 4: Fear -> Next

Author’s Note: Sorry, I 100% forgot to post yesterday, but I’m only a day late. Enjoy!

Chapter 3: Training

Izuku was still in bed when his mom tapped on his door. After his injury and the subsequent surgeries, he rarely left his room unless he was going to school, physical therapy, or struggling through his chores. His hip, ankle and wrist were all weak, and his doctors still weren’t sure when or if he’d be able to do anything more than a fast walk.

Tearing his eyes from the video of Katsuki’s latest first place performance, he said, “Come in.”

Inko’s dark head poked around the door, an uncertain smile gracing her lips. “Hey, baby, there’s some people here to see you. I don’t know if you’re up for visitors.

With a grunt, Izuku pushed himself up against his headboard. “Who is it?” he asked, running a hand through his unruly curls.

“They say they’re coaches, and there’s a doctor with them. Um, Toshinori and Aizawa?”

Izuku almost swallowed his tongue. Through his choking, he gasped, “Like Toshinori Yagi and Aizawa Shouta?” He tossed back his sheets only to realize that he was still in his pajamas that were several days old, sweat stained and wrinkled. Then his eyes jumped up to the walls of his room, papered from one end to the other with posters of Toshinori when he’d still been skating competitively. There was a singular embarrassing photo of him and Aizawa the single time they’d partnered for a showcase.

What made it embarrassing wasn’t the fact that it was on his wall, but the fact that it was a blurry screenshot blown up to the point that it was almost unrecognizable.

“They can’t come in here!”

“Then come out here. They’re having tea right now.”

“I-I-” Izuku tried to think of an excuse, a reason not to see them. There was no reason two of the Skating Commission’s top coaches should be in his home. Why would they waste their time talking to someone as broken as him? He didn’t want to hear anything they had to say when they saw just how bad he was. He didn’t want to see the looks on their faces.

He frowned at the black mood that started to creep over him as it often did since his injury, sapping his energy and life until he felt barely human at all. When he glanced up, there were blue eyes looking at him over Inko’s head. Squeaking, he scrambled for his blankets.

Inko released a very similar noise to her omega son when she glanced around. Pushing into the room in a desperate attempt to get away from the hulking alpha, she left the door open.

Toshinori raised a placating hand, smiling. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you, just came to check. My name is Toshinori Yagi.”

“I know,” Izuku whispered before he realized that it might have sounded rude, cheeks heating as he glanced around the room at all his figure skating paraphernalia. He swallowed, sucking down a mouthful of the alpha’s sweet pound cake scent. He'd thought the blogs had been lying about his scent, and his mind reeled with this new information. “I’m just… not sure why you’re here.”

The smile never left Toshinori’s face. “Please, come out and we’ll explain. Chiyo would like to take a look at you as well.”

Izuku swallowed again, eyes wide as he stared. “Like Shuzeji Chiyo? The famous sports medicine doctor that put you back on the ice? Why…” He stopped, taking in Toshinori’s face again. Biting his lip, he shuffled to the edge of the bed and slowly eased his legs onto the floor. Inko immediately passed him his cane, and he grunted as he leaned into it heavily. “Okay. I’ll come out.”

Inko trailed closely behind him, ready to catch him if he stumbled. He could feel the burn of Toshinori’s eyes as he passed, and he couldn’t help the flush that colored his cheeks. He loved his mom, adored her more than anything else in the world, but at that moment, he felt a twinge of animosity rise from the black pool in his chest. He wished she wouldn’t shadow him like a just born calf, didn’t care half as much as she did.

He dismissed that thought as soon as he had it. Without his mother, he didn’t want to imagine where he’d be. Dead in a ditch probably.

It was slow going to the chairs that Inko had set out across the coffee table from the couch. Their couch wasn’t made for three bodies to sit on, but their visitors seemed to be comfortable enough as Izuku eased himself down into a chair. He didn’t release his cane, but instead held it more tightly as he glanced from the exhausted looking Aizawa Shouta to the ever chipper Shuzenji Chiyo and finally to the similarly sunny yet nervous Toshinori Yagi.

“Um, hello,” he murmured awkwardly after a moment, reaching out a hand, “I’m Midoriya Izuku. I’m sorry to be so forward, but I’m not really sure why you are all here.”

“Thought it was obvious,” Aizawa said, voice deep and deeply uninterested in the proceedings, “We’re here to recruit you for Yuuei’s newest generation of skaters. All we need is a yes or a no.”

Izuku’s hand tightened, knuckles going white. He glanced from one passive face to the next. “The doctors said I’d never skate again. They don’t even think I’ll be able to run again.” Biting at the inside of his cheek, he did his best to force back the heat pressing in at his eyes.

Shuzenji's smile widened. “That’s why I’m here, young man. I’ve gotten skaters with some rather nasty injuries back on the ice. Take Toshinori for example. Do you have your x-rays over the course of your recovery? And the first. I’d like to take a look if you don’t mind.”

“Of course!” Inko said before Izuku could even look at her. She jumped up from her seat and hurried down the hall to her room.

“Why is Yuuei looking for a new skating team? They already have one with a lot of really strong skaters.”

“Right,” Toshinori said, jumping into the conversations before Aizawa could answer, “but a lot of them are nearing the end of their competitive careers or are planning to go solo. Within the next ten years or sooner, all of them will be officially retired from the competitive circuit. So, we have to start training the next generation to take their places.”

Inko returned with a thick manila folder, and Shuzenji jumped down to take her into the kitchen where there was better light.

Izuku was quiet for a moment, listening to the quiet murmur of the two women. “So, why me? Even if I can skate again, it’s going to take a long time before I can compete again. I’m not even sure how you found me. My recent track record hasn’t been good.”

“Which is fine because we’re really interested in the team as competitors for senior divisions, not juniors. Yes, there was a decline in your performance over the past two years, but before that, you and your partner were making remarkable headway as competitors. We’d already had our eye on you two, and we were disappointed when you didn’t get a chance to go singles. We’ve already talked to Bakugou, and he’s agreed to join us.”

Izuku flinched at the mention of Katsuki, seeing all over again the look of horror and disgust on his face as Izuku lay broken on the ice just before he passed out. “I’m not skating pairs again. I want to skate singles.”

“That’s what Bakugou said as well,” Aizawa said, sitting forward to lace his fingers between his knees, “Good thing we’re only looking for singles. Yuuei isn’t known for pairs. One day, we might include them, but for the time being, there’s no reason to.”

“Good news, young man, I believe you’ll be able to get back on the ice by year’s end provided we change and increase your physical therapy,” Shuzenji called as she came back out of the kitchen, Inko trailing behind with tears wetting her cheeks. “Even if it’s not by the end of your year, you’ll definitely be able to skate again. Your breaks were a little messy and your dislocations bad, but everything seems to be healing well. Your doctors just have you doing the wrong kind of therapy. It’ll be hard work, but I have no doubt you can get through it.”

Swallowing, Izuku met Aizawa’s and Toshinori’s eyes again. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

…..

October Week 2

The music cut off suddenly. Izuku stumbled across the ice, toe pick catching and sending him sprawling.

“Midoriya,” Todoroki said, at his elbow in a moment with his peculiar snow and orchid scent.

Izuku accepted the helping hand, panting hard as sweat dripped down the side of his face and neck. He wiped at it with the sleeve of his shirt, dropping his hands to his knees.

“Maybe you should take a break. You haven’t stopped moving since we started, and you feel warmer than normal. Are you about to start your heat? You shouldn’t be on ice if you’re in pre-heat.”

Perceptive Todoroki, or maybe it was just an omega thing. Either way, Izuku quickly shook his head. Actually, when Izuku had looked at the figure skating calendar taped to his fridge, he’d been surprised to not only find that today was the start of week two of training, but also that there was a red line stretching for seven days into the third week of October. Izuku had immediately popped a suppressant, and went about his day.

He couldn’t be focussing on anything other than training. He just didn’t have the time.

“No, I’m fine. Just tired. This routine is going to be hard.” Izuku smiled up at his friend, but Todoroki’s mismatched eyes looked skeptical at best.

They stood up straight as Aizawa’s voice echoed through the rink. “That’s it for today. Pack up and get out, or don’t. I don’t care. We’re in the studio tomorrow. Don’t be late, or Nemuri isn’t going to be happy.” He turned from the rink entrance, striding away and not giving them time to ask him any questions.

The team met on ice only three times a week, in the studio twice for off ice training, and once at a nearby track for cardio and calisthenics. When they trained together, it was never more than three hours long. Any other training they did was on their own around jobs and college. Aizawa had supplied them with keys to the rink -perks of being the city’s official skating team-, but as far as he knew, Izuku was the only one who actively practiced every single day and often multiple times a day.

Izuku and Todoroki glided smoothly to the entrance with the rest of their teammates, but where the rest grabbed their guards and chattered loudly about classes and work and ‘I’m never going to get that jump down before December!’, Izuku remained on ice. “Chako, can you hand me my headphones and cell?”

Uraraka glanced over at him, cheeks flushed more pink than normal. “You’re not coming? We were going to get ramen. Just us omega.”

“Ah, no, I’m going to stay here a little longer. There’s still some things I wanted to go over.”

With a sigh, she reached into his bag behind her, easily finding the items along with the suppressants he kept in a plastic bag in case of emergencies. She stared at the pills, eyebrows pulling together as she frowned.

“Just vitamins!” he said too quickly and too loudly, leaning over the wall to grab his cell and headphones, “Thanks! Have a good time at ramen! I’ll see you guys tomorrow!” Shoving the buds into his ears and away from the wall, he slid back toward center ice where he stood to fiddle with his playlists.

Besides skating, he didn’t really do much else. He ran a figure skating blog where he posted videos of his own routines and lessons on how to perform different techniques and jumps. He also posted analyses on the wider skating world or particularly interesting foot work from other ice sports, ice skating events taking place across the globe, figure skaters’ costumes, ice skates, and so on. If it had anything to do with figure skating or putting blade to ice, it would inevitably end up on his blog one way or another. He earned enough from the blog to cover his living expenses and put some into savings. Everything else was covered by the wildly popular figure skating podcast he co-hosted where he got a kickback from the sponsorship deals and whatever merchandise they were able to sell. Since Izuku had also started helping with merchandise designs and marketing, they’d started to actually sell out of things.

One day, if Toshinori and Aizawa ever agreed, he wanted to be the first to write the autobiography detailing their brief yet bright partnership.

It only took the rest of the team ten minutes to clear out of the rink. Before the doors slammed closed, his friends called, “Bye, Deku! See you tomorrow! Go home soon!”

He waved his own goodbye. With a sigh of relief, he pressed play.

It was only when Izuku was alone on ice late at night with music in his ears and losing track of time that he was well and truly happy. With the others on ice, there was always the looming black cloud, the sense of dread, the reminder that Katsuki would be back from his rut sooner rather than later and at some point it would have to be him and Katsuki on ice together again. He didn’t hate the thought, but he did hate the anxiety it invoked within him.

Pushing away everything bad floating around in his chest, Izuku allowed himself to just enjoy the monotony of practice. One technique at a time. One song at a time. One leg at a time. The hours fell away, and outside, the sky fell dark.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he caught a flash of blond hair, broad shoulders covered in black and an orange bag out of the corner of his eye. He stumbled out of his spin and hit the ice, the impact jarring straight up his spine. Scrambling, he looked toward the rink entrance just in time to catch the double doors clicking softly closed.

The timer on his phone to switch techniques chimed.

…..

Katsuki let out an explosive sigh as he stepped out of his apartment building, breath pluming in the chilly night air.

Katsuki hated his ruts. Realistically, if the laws allowed him to, he could be a functioning member of everyday society during his ruts, at least he thought so. No one seemed to agree with him. Not his mother, his father or any of his friends. For some reason, they all seemed to think Katsuki had violent enough ruts to destroy his apartment. None of them had ever seen his apartment after a rut, and they never would as long as he had a say, not with the lingering scent of desperation and sex clinging to the walls.

His ruts weren’t violent, but they were boring as hell.

Adjusting his skating bag across his back and tightening the strap across his chest, he took off at a sharp clip towards the rink. He didn’t live far which he’d done on purpose rather than by accident. The nerd lived in the same building for the same reason. Katsuki should know, he’d been the one to discreetly leave a flyer with the words “Within walking distance of the famous Yuuei skating rink” bolded across the front in Izuku’s bag just before they’d graduated high school.

For an entire week, Katsuki was cooped up in his small one bedroom apartment. He wasted away the hours working out, cleaning incessantly, and binging hours of figure skating videos for inspiration for his own routines.

Katsuki had to deal with the typical rut related issues like getting hard every hour and the insistent heat that lived rent free beneath his skin that only made him feel like he was sweating to death. Even with all of his apartment windows thrown wide to invite in the plummeting autumn air, he left damp palm prints on everything . It was fucking maddening. The near painful erections that he ignored for as long as possible and the even more painful orgasms that followed were the bane of his existence. He did pretty much everything to avoid having to touch himself until there was literally no way around it.

The cold stung his lungs, and he inhaled greedily. His muscles, despite being exhausted from the long week, warmed quickly to the familiarity of running.

Here was the thing, Katsuki was a fully functioning adult male who enjoyed sex and the occasional jerk session as much as the next, but during his ruts, each orgasm just heaped disappointment on him and made him more irritable than he already would have been.

He wasn’t an aggressive rutter by any means -no torn bedding or holes in pillows or cracked plaster walls-, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed them. He would have dealt with them better if he was allowed on the ice.

There were suppressants he could use with various effects. To make his ruts shorter, happen only twice a year compared to four, eradicate them completely. Beside the host of physical side effects, he’d seen first hand what they’d done to Izuku. He wasn’t ashamed to say he wanted nothing to do with them.

Katsuki dug out the keys Aizawa had given him as he neared the rink, pulling off his gloves with his teeth one after the other. He didn’t normally practice late at night. It was easier to practice early in the morning to accommodate the rest of his schedule; training with the team, his modelling gig, the classes he taught for young athletes, and his own schooling. It wasn’t normal for him to practice at night, but he was making an exception. He wouldn’t be able to sleep even if he tried. Not literally right after his rut ended.

When he stepped through the double doors to the rink, he wasn’t expecting to find the rink lights still on and the smooth sound of blades biting into ice.

Doing his best not to be seen, he looked out onto the ice.

Wild green curls and elegant movements greeting him. Izuku moved on the ice like he’d been born skating. Even though he was gliding in a simple circle, round and round with one foot held off the ice in front of him, he was mesmerizing. His eyes were downcast, expression soft and lax as the quiet sound of his humming filled the rink.

To this day, Katsuki had never seen another skater who moved like Izuku. Moved like the ice was their true home. Moved like no one was watching him.

Except that everyone always had their eyes on Izuku. Toshinori, Aizawa, their teammates, Katsuki…

He wanted to hate it, wanted to hate how drawn he always was to Izuku, but he’d come to accept that it was impossible. Even a decade later after his injury, even seventeen years after they set foot on the ice for the first time, even nineteen years after they first met, Katsuki still couldn’t manage to hate it.

He turned back toward the door.

#my hero academia #mha #bakudeku #dekubaku #decchan #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics #alpha!katsuki #omega!izuku #figure skater au #no quirks au #my writing #sharpen your blades

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hateswifi · 5 years ago

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Making Do (With What Life Gave Us): Part 3

I really hope you are enjoying this semi-short series. There’s one part left, leave asks. I enjoy writing what you guys want.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Seven hours later she landed and was met by Bruce. When she saw him, she ran over and hugged him. "Dad! I missed you so much!"

"Princess I missed you too! The boys are at the house, they were told to be on their best behaviors. All they know is that someone important is coming to dinner," Bruce said, picking up Marinette's suitcase.

"Thank you, Dad! I'm so happy I get to surprise them," she said, climbing into the front seat with Bruce. After a quick car ride, they pull up to the Wayne Manor, no doubt Alfred was lining up the boys in the foyer. When she enters the house, the boys have their eyes to the ground as a sign of respect.

"Welcome home Master Bruce, Miss Marinette," Alfred said with a smirk.

"Marinette!" Dick said, charging the poor girl. He picks up the girl and spins her in a hug.

"Move Grayson," Damian says as Dick puts her down.

"But it's my turn," Dick answers.

"My turn," Damian says, pushing Dick out of the way. He brought her into a hug. "I missed you so much, but I knew you were coming."

"Seriously?! I missed you though. I didn't want to leave," Marinette said, crying into his shoulder. It had only been a couple of months but he had grown so much.

"Oh come stop hogging her," Jason says, attempting to push Damian out of the way.

"Dami, let me hug Jay-Jay and Tim," Marinette said, wiping her eyes. Damian lets her go and wipes her tears away. She hugs Jason and Tim. She then unpacks and eats dinner. She sits next to Damian and holds his hand under the table because he was eating left-handed.

"I learned a lot of vegetarian dishes while in Paris and since Sabine and Tom live above a bakery I've become better at baking," Marinette smiled, looking at Damian.

"Can we try it as well, I've missed your cooking," Tim asked.

"Yes! The more the merrier! I'm excited I may only be here for a couple of days, but we'll make the most of it," Marinette said. "Jason, you want to spare after dinner?"

"Sure, can't wait to kick your butt," Jason snickers.

"Wait... I wanted to go on the bars with you..." Dick says then smiles. "Can we do it tomorrow?"

"Sure that would be so much fun! Tim, do you think I can go to work with you on Tuesday? I would love to learn more about business. Chloe and I are planning a winter social and I want to start my own boutique after I graduate," Marinette explained.

"You still have four years till you're eighteen. But I'm sure Tim and definitely Damian would love for you to come to work," Bruce stated with a smile.

"I know Dad, but I think I might start a commission website once I get more free time," Marinette said smiling.

"That's fantastic let me know when you do," Bruce said.

"Jason you ready to fight," Marinette asks, taking her plate to the kitchen.

"Cool, let's go," Jason said, following her with his plate. They then walked to the gym the rest of the boys following. "You ready?"

"Sí, ¿estás listo?" Marinette said, taking off her shoes and getting into positions.

"Of course I'm ready, that's why I asked you, ya know what. Tres... Dos... Unos," Jason said before launching into his attack. The fight lasts a bit before Jason gets the upper hand and pins her down with her arm behind her back.

"I guess I'm a little rusty," Marinette says, taking the hand Damian was offering. She got up and brushed off the dust. Damian put an arm around her waist, she snuggled into his grasp and yawns. "I'm a bit tired, I'm going to head to bed. Night love you all."

A collective 'Night' comes as she closes the door. As her footsteps fade, Jason turns and smirks. "So what was that about?"

"What was what about?" Damian asked, sliding down against the wall to sit on the ground.

"Do you really think I didn't notice you guys holding hands under the table?" Tim asked, shaking his head.

"And that you helped her up and pulled her into a hug," Dick said.

"And you didn't flinch when she snuggled into your embrace," Jason finished.

"Do you have a crush on her, Demon?" Tim asked.

"I will end you," he says adding a dramatic pause. "She is just a friend."

"Sure...." Dick said. leaving the gym with Tim and Jason following. Damian grumbles while standing then proceeds to punch and beat up the punching bag. 'He didn't like her like that., right? No.... she's his best friend, she would never see him like that.' With that thought and one final punch, the punching bag fell. 'Then why am I acting like this.'

All too soon, Marinette headed back to Paris. Bruce accompanied her back home on his private jet. "Bye, you guys! I hope I see you soon," Marinette said, hugging her family.

"Princess, it's time to go," Bruce said, climbing the stairs to the plane.

"Ok, Dad, love you all!" Marinette said, waving as the door closed.

Alfred leads the boys back to the car, as Jason grumbles, "how come Bruce gets to go with Pixie-Pop."

"Master Bruce is doing business in Paris," Alfred said, closing the door to the front seat.

"What business?" Tim asks, looking up from his phone.

"He's opening a Wayne Enterprises building in Paris," Alfred said, starting the car.

"Seriously?" Damian asked, sitting up straighter.

"Wow... calm down lover boy," Dick laughs.

"We know you wanna see your girlfriend, but opening a building takes time," Tim teased.

"She's not my girlfriend," Damian grumbles.

"But.... you wish she was," Jason says, elbowing Damian.

"She is my best friend... I will snap your knee caps if you say differently," Damian says, putting in earphones.

Back on the plane with Marinette, she sat quietly sketching in her new notebook. After the seven-hour flight, Marinette jumped off the plane with Bruce following to greet Sabine, Tom, and Chloe. "Hey Sabine, Tom," she said, hugging her adopted parents.

"Hi, sweetie," Sabine greets.

"Hi, Chloe! I have so much to tell you about, but first, Sabine, Tom, Chloe, this is my unofficial Dad, Bruce," Marinette said.

"Nice to meet you all, Marinette speaks highly of all of you," Bruce greets.

"Wait, I thought Sabine and Tom are your parents?" Chloe asked.

"Well, Dad how long are you going to be around for because that depends when I explain it," Marinette asked.

"I'm going to be here until building plans are final," Bruce answers.

"Building plans?" Marinette asks.

"I'll explain it when you explain everything else," Bruce responds.

"Mama, Papa, can they come to dinner?" Marinette asked, grabbing Sabine's hand.

"Of course," Tom responded.

"Everything is vegetarian. We love supporting our daughter," Sabine added.

"Of course, I'm the same way with Damian," Bruce said. “Of course, it would be rude as an unannounced guest to make you change your plans."

"Daddy has been supporting my decisions to eat less meat," Chloe smiles.

"And I don't expect you to change because we're friends. As friends, we take each other as we are," Marinette smiles while jumping in the car. As they sat at the dinner table Marinette decided to explain everything. "I grew up without my father, my mother was a junkie and a 'dancer'. Needless to say my life wasn't the best, one day, I guess Mum didn't pay for her drugs and made some high up people angry. She passed on. Later the next day, Bruce showed up with Alfred, the man who is like my grandfather, at the police station. He decided, with the help of Jason, Tim, and Dick, to be my foster home. Two years later, Damian, who is now my best friend and Bruce's only biological son, moved in. Another two years later, Tom and Sabine adopted me. I guess that caught everyone up?" Marinette explained. "So, Dad, what's this about a building."

"After you got adopted, I decided to open a Wayne Enterprises in Paris," Bruce said.

"Wait seriously? You guys will be spending more time in Paris?" Marinette asked, standing up quickly, her chair squeaking. "Thank you, Dad!"

"Yes but as you know we will still have to spend most of our time in Gotham," Bruce said.

"I know Dad, the Rogues like to attack the building a lot so you have to stay there to keep it running," Marinette sighed.

"Exactly, well goodnight Princess, I'm going to check into the hotel. I'll stop by here on the way to the airport to say goodbye," Bruce said, standing while he moved to grab his bag.

"My driver is here," Chloe said, taking her plate to the kitchen. "Bye Tom, Sabine. See you at school on Monday, Marinette."

The year ended, and her family came and visited over the summer. At the beginning of the new year, and as she was running late, she saved an elder man, who was attempting to cross the streets. She saved him and didn't drop the macaroons her papa made for her and the class. She bowed to the man, out of respect, and ran into class to see Chloe not sitting in her normal seat in the second row. Marinette shrugs and moves to sit next to her friend, before Ms. Bustier stopped her with a smile.

"This year there will be assigned seats, someone felt left out last year so we're trying to make it a bit fairer," Ms. Bustier explained.

"It's because... Sabrine complained that I got more than one friend," Chloe grumbled, crossing her arms.

"The person wished to remain anonymous," Ms. Bustier scolded. "Now that this is sorted, please take your seat beside Alya, the new girl in glasses."

"Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous," Chloe complained, glaring at the teacher.

"No it's only fair, we want to set a good example of how," Ms. Bustier paused, being interrupted by Ivan screaming. "Ivan! to the Office now!' Marinette shook her head, frowned, and took a seat next to the glasses-wearing girl.

The new girl leaned over and asked shocked. "You're actually friends with her? She seems like a brat, I think you need new friends."

"New friends are always welcome. Don't worry I thought the same when I first met her, but now I know that she is pretty awesome," Marinette said, taking out a notebook from her backpack along with her sketchbook.

"She seems to be mean though," the girl, Alya, said, skeptically.

"Well... give her a chance to change your mind. I'm Marinette by the way. It's nice to meet you," Marinette said, smiling. "I'm the previous co-class-representative." Alya was about to say something before being cut off by something, a rock being, burst through the door and wall. The monster took Mylene and Chloe before bashing through the window and wall. Alya stood up abruptly and rushed through the classroom wall towards the rock man.

"Where are you going?" Marinette shouted after the crazy girl.

"Where monsters are, heroes follow," She called over her shoulder. Marinette ran and jumped out the hole in the wall and chased to where she had seen Chloe.

Something was off-balance in her bag, she stopped and opened it to see a black oxygon box. She was suspicious of the box she skirted to the nearest alleyway. Not feeling anything too suspicious, she opened it. A glow formed and a sprite, fairy thing appeared in front of her. "Woah... that's so cool," Marinette cooed, holding out her hand for the thing to land on it.

"Hi! I'm Tikki, the goddess of creation and your kwami. Paris needs your help, you need to defeat the akumatizaed person," the thing, Tikki, said.

"So you're a kwami, but what's an akuma? How can I help?" Marinette asked.

"You're going to be the owner of the ladybug miraculous. You're going to be a hero!" Tikki exclaimed.

"Again you mean... I used to be a hero. Oh, man! I can't wait to rub this in Jason's face. He's salty that he doesn't have his own city to protect," Marinette said excitedly jumping. After a moment she paused and looked at the floating kwami. "I am by myself, right?"

"You'll have a partner, the owner of the black cat miraculous," Tikki explained while grabbing the earring to hand to Marinette. "You have to find the akumatized item, usually something that looks out of place, then you break the item and catch the butterfly. To help you defeat the akuma you need to use your power, lucky charm. After the butterfly is caught, you need to use Miraculous Ladybug to repair any damages. When you're ready to transform, you'll have to say, Tikki, Spots on."

"Ok... ok cool. I can do this, just like being Ladybird, but with enhancements?" Marinette asked, putting the earrings in. Tikki nods before Marinette shouts. "Tikki! Spots on!" She looks down at herself to see a similar design to her Ladybird costume. Her costume had a black armored torso, the collar was black, and gloves up to her elbow were dark red along with knee-high boots. The rest was a regular ladybug's pattern. She threw her yo-yo onto a nearby roof and pulled the string she flew across the sky and landed on a roof. She stood, smiling. while looking over Paris, that was until she got knocked over by, who she suspects, is her partner. He stands up and holds out his hand to help her stand.

"Sorry, I'm not used to- poling?- traveling across Paris on rooftops," her partner says, brushing himself before dropping into a bow.

"I'm Ladybug, I'm guessing you're my partner," Ladybug says, looking towards the tower. She starts spinning her yo-yo looking to throw it.

"I'm Chat Noir. Wait... how are you good at doing this, umm yo-yoing?" Chat asks, looking in disbelief.

"It's like a grappling hook, which I'm used to, and that's not too important right now. I'll explain later, we have an akuma to defeat," she says, throwing her yo-yo towards the tower, Chat following close after. They both land down on the street across from the tower. (A/N: So..... since Marinette used to be a hero she didn't mess up, Ivan also has the power to turn people into the rock beings. Enjoy my dudes)

"Give me back my daughter!" the mayor screamed into the megaphone.

"You want the brat back? Fine take her," Stone Heart shouted before tossing her.

"No! No! No! I'm too young to die..." She shrieked, flailing her arms. Ladybug breathed before sliding to catch her. "Marinette...?"

"I'll explain later," she said, quietly before putting her down.

Ivan threw up purple butterflies and a face appears as Ivans falls. "Citizens of Paris, I am Hawkmoth. I will stop this after the owners of the black cat and ladybug miraculous give up and give me their miraculous. Nothing further will happen," the butterfly miraculous owner, Hawkmoth, monologued.

Ladybug smirks before jumping up on to the platform, she grabs all the butterflies in her yo-yo. "I will whip your sorry--- I mean... I, personally, promise to destroy your hopes and dreams, you creepy old man," Ladybug threatened, putting her hands on her hips. "You will regret the day your parents made the mistake of having you."

"OOOOF! Kill em!" Chat said, clapping. Ladybird smirks, before catching all the butterflies. Stone Heart and his minions get up and attempt to take the miraculous by force. After their failed attempt, Ladybug caught the last butterfly. She then released all the butterflies, including the ones that made up Hawkmoth's face. she used miraculous ladybug as the white butterflies flutter away.

They went their separate ways and Marinette landed back at her house in her room and waited for Chloe to stop by so Marinette can explain everything so far.

"Marinette... I need to eat so I can be ready for the next Akuma attack," Tikki said, landing on Marinette's head.

"Ummmm... ok what do you need to eat?" Marinette asked.

"Cookies! Have you ever heard of them," Tikki asks?

"Of course I have... I live above a bakery," Marinette said, walking down the stairs. She collects some cookies from the cookie jar and looks for Tikki to give her the cookie. as her mom walks in.

"Hi honey, I'm so glad that you're ok... that was crazy," Sabine said.

"Ya! I can't believe it! I get to live in a city with heroes again, I can't wait to see what happens," Marinette exclaims kissing her mother's cheek before running upstairs. Not too long after a blonde head popped up through her hatch. "Hey Chloe, how y doing?"

"How. How am I doing!? Seriously! I get thrown off the Eiffel Tower and you're a superhero and that's all you can say?!” Chloe yells, falling on her chaise.

"Seriously keep it down... they don't know," Marinette says.

"But you look exactly the same," Chloe said, sitting up.

"Magic protect her," Tikki explained, flying out of her hiding place.

"Wha-- THe aCtuaL hEcK!" She screamed climbing on top of the chaise.

A muffled "Are you girls ok up there?" came from Sabine downstairs.

"We're fine Mama, we are watching a Youtuber who wants to be a chair, don't worry about," Marinette screamed back. "This is my kwami Tikki. She helps me become Ladybug."

"So you have a flying bug that makes you become a superhero. How long have you been a hero?" Chloe said.

"Since I was ten but as Ladybug only one day, I started today," Marinette explained. Chloe raised an eyebrow as she continued. "I haven't been able to tell you because of my dad's rules. But since you figured it out I don't think he will care too much."

"Wait, who were you?" Chloe asks.

"I was Ladybird with my family. We are the best and I can't wait to rub it in my brothers' faces," Marinette snickers, picking up her phone. "Do you mind if I make a call real quick."

"Of course not I have to be getting home soon," Chloe said, standing up. They hug before Chloe leaves. She picks up her phone and dials her brothers."Hey guys!"

"Seriously! There are villains there!" Jason screams.

"Yes there is a villain, there are also too new heroes," Marinette said. "Wait, how'd you know?"

"We keep tabs on Paris and get notified as soon as something big happens," Tim explains coming into frame.

"One of them looks suspiciously like you," Damina's voice came from out of frame.

"She had some similar moves to what I taught you," Dick says, pushing Jason out of frame.

"I'm also pretty sure that shares the same grappling skills as you," Damian said, stepping into frame.

"Well if you had let me talk, I would have told you I am Ladybug the hero of Paris," Marinette said, crossing her arms, pouting. "And you guys ruined it by figuring it out."

"You were quite obvious though," Damian said.

"You get to take care of your own city, HOW is that even fair," Jason complains, pushing Damian so he could be seen.

"Actually I have a partner, as you would have seen in the articles, Chat Noir," Marinette smiles.

"If he fails to protect you or hurts you in any way, I will make his death slow and very painful," Damian said.

"Don't worry about it from our short interaction and fight he could use some training but he's nice," Marinette explained.

"I gotta go," Damian said. He said before rushing off.

"Um... bye Dami, so how have you guys been," Marinette asked and the conversation flowed until she was called for dinner. The boys waved goodbye as she hung up only after she promised to keep them updated. Jason smirks and goes to find Damian.

"So... why'd you storm off?" Jason asks leaning on the gym wall the sound of Damian hitting the punching bag filling the gym.

"What do you mean?" he asks between punches.

"You stormed off after Marinette brought up her nice, blonde, skintight leather suit wearing partner," Jason smirks, the punching comes faster the sounds getting louder.

"It has nothing to do with that.... that wretch," Damian said.

"So when are you gonna admit that you like her," Jadon asks, crossing his arms across his chest.

"I won't," He pauses, standing up straight and grabs a towel. "because she's just a friend."

"Be careful," Jason says, pushing off the wall. He walks towards the door, opens it, and looks over his shoulder while saying. "or you will lose, it may not be today or tomorrow but you will lose her." As the door closes Jason hears the punching bag being hit again. Jason snickers and heads to the Bat Cave to look up Chat Noir.

The next day at school Marinette rushed into the courtyard to see Chloe. She hugged Chloe after they finished Marinette turned around as she heard a scream. A blonde bow holding a steaming cup of coffee tripped and fell, the coffee spilled all over the front of her. "Marinette, are you ok?" Chloe exclaimed.

"I'm so sorry!" the blonde screamed.

"Adrien! You're already causing trouble, just come home," a voice screamed after the blonde.

"Adrien! You made it! Come on let's go," Chloe said, grabbing Adrien and Marinette's hand. "I'm going to take her to the bathroom. go to the locker room find my locker, its number 286, and grab the spare clothes,"

"Ummm... ok, I'm sorry again. I'll be right back," he says before rushing off.

"That's your blonde friend you're always talking about," Marinette said as they entered the bathroom.

"Ya, you guys will be great friends," Chloe said, looking in the mirror as Marinette entered the stall.

"First great impression, being burned and all. It's going to be great because it looks like he's clumsier than me," Marinette said, throwing the soiled shirt on top of the stall door. A knock echoed throughout the bathroom. "Umm Chloe, I got the clothes."

"Hold on," She says opening the door and instructs while taking the clothes. "Stay there we'll be out before class." Chloe handed Marinette the clothes. It was I white tank halter top, paired with a high waisted light blue that matched Chloe's icy blue eyes, along with black heels.

"You ready to go?" Marinette asks exiting the stall.

"Nope, not yet. You can't wear that outfit with your hair in pigtails, I'm sorry it just can be done," Chloe said, stealing her hair ties.

"Chloe!" Marinette said, looking into the mirror then smirked. "I look good. Ok, let's go. We don't want to be late."

Another knock came from as they were about to leave. "Guys the bell is going to ring soon." He finishes as they push the door open. "Uhhhhh... hi... hi I'm Adrien," he stutters out as they enter the locker room.

"HI I'm Marin--" Marinette started as the bell rung interrupted her. She grabbed both the blonde's hands and ran to close pulling them both close behind. "Sorry, Ms. Bustier that we're late... um.... we were showing the new student around."

"Yes?" Chloe agreed sitting down beside Sabrina in the front.

"Adrien, sit in front of Marinette," Ms. Bustier says, pointing to the empty seat next to Nino. As he sat down the Nino introduced himself. "Hey, I'm Nino your new seat partner." Then held out a fist.

"Cool, I'm Adrien, I'm super psyched to start school, ya know being homeschooled all my life," Adrien said, bumping Nino's out held fist.

"Everyone is pretty chill here, you'll make friends fast," Nino said.

"I know, I'm already friends with Chloe and Mar-Marinette," he stutters out.

"Marinette is a great person," Nino smiles. "Chloe, she is a lot better than she use to be."

"She has, I'm pretty sure that it's because of Ma-Marinette," Adrien said with a smile. The class continued without a hitch and soon came lunch. "Hey Chloe, what are you doing for lunch?"

"Well I usually go over to Marinette's house for lunch," Chloe explained, looking back at the class, waiting for Marinette to emerge from the classroom. She had been asked to stay after class for a minute.

"Hey, guys," Marinette greets. "I'm Marinette, it's nice to finally meet you,"

"Ma-Marinette, hi," Adrien said.

"So you want to come to lunch with us?" Marinette asks, walking towards the stairs.

"That would be awesome!" Adrien said, following behind.

"So that woman this morning, is she your mother?" Marinette asks.

"No... um, my mother is gone," Adrien faltered.

"Oh... I'm sorry I didn't realize," Marinette sympathizes. "So this is my house. Mama! Papa! I'm home! I brought Chloe and Adrien."

"Hi honey, how was your day? What happened to your clothes?" Sabine asks, coming from the back.

"Adrien tripped and spilled his coffee onto me," Marinette explained, hugging Sabine.

"Lunch is upstairs," Sabine says. "Tom is upstairs as well and needs opinions on a new recipe."

"Your parents are bakers, can they adopt me?" Adrien asks his mouth agape.

"You're not allowed to eat sweets?" Marinette asks, opening the door and dropping her bag.

"Wait... you don't know who I/he am/is?" Chloe and Adrien exclaim at the same time.

"Am I suppose? All I know is that you're Chloe's childhood friend," Marinette explains, grabbing plates from the cabinet.

"So much for a future fashion designer," Chloe sighs, grabbing utensils.

"What do you mean?" Marinette asks, placing a place on the table. "Papa! Lunch!"

"Coming Mari," he shouts back.

"I'm a model," Adrien explains, taking a seat.

"Your point is, I don't pay too much attention to the models, just the clothes," Marinette explains, pulling the cheddar broccoli crepes out of the fridge.

"But I'm Adrien Agreste, son of Gabriel Agreste. Surely you've heard of me," Adrien asks, fidgeting.

"Of course I've heard the name, I'm just not too good at putting names to faces," Marinette says serving the food.

"Hi sweetie, Chloe. Who's your friend?" Tom asks, grabbing cups from the cabinet and the pitcher of water from the fridge.

"This is Adrien, he's new to the school," Marinette explains, pouring the water.

"Marinette, Bruce called a bit earlier, he's asking about you coming back for Thanksgiving again," Tom said, slicing his food.

"Already? It's only September? But I can't wait to go home again, I miss them," Marinette says, smiling.

"You saw last month," Chloe deadpans.

"And am I not allowed to miss them?" Marinette asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Miss who?" Adrien asks, taking a bite.

"Not important at the moment," Marinette answers, quickly as her phone begins to ring and she smiles. "Speak of the Demon. Sorry guys gotta take this back in a minute." She then walks across the living room before switching to English. "Hi, Dami."

"Father told me that he talked to Tom about you coming home for Thanksgiving," Damian states.

"Yes, and as I just told Tom, I would love to come home for the holidays. I miss you guys, ya know?" Marinette says, placing her free hand on her elbow.

"We miss you too, why do you think Father opened the Wayne Enterprises there?" Damian asks.

"You guys love me as much as I love you," Marinette smiles.

"Ummm Marinette! We're going to be getting back to school," Adrien shouts before Damian could respond.

"Who's that?" Damian asks his voice sounding tenser than normal.

"Oh that's my new friend Adrien," Marinette responds before looking at the clock. "Well, can you call me after your school ends?"

"I would love to talk more," Damian said.

"Damian! Time to leave, you can call Pixie-Pop later," Jason's voice came.

"Tell them I said hi and that I miss them," Marinette said. "Love you Dami, Bye." She finishes and heads back to the table. Her father was handing out mint and dark chocolate macaroons. "Papa, Sab-- Mama said you were making a new recipe, haven't you made these before?"

"Yes and no, they're the same flavors, but the cookies are mint this time instead of dark chocolate," Tom explains as Marinette takes one.

"The flavors are a lot more even. Bye Papa, see you after school," she waves with Adrien and Chloe following her.

"Sooooo, how was Demon?" Chloe snickers.

"He's happy, well as happy as he can be, that I'm coming home next month," Marinette explains.

"Who is 'Demon'?" Adrien asks as the walk up the stairs.

"Her boyfriend," Chloe teases, elbowing Marinette in the ribs.

"He's not my boyfriend, he's just a friend," Marinette denies. "Well he is my best friend, yes Chloe is on the same level though, and he's my food friend."

"Where does he live?" Adrien asks. They're now back in the classroom and he's turned to face her. (In this world Chloe sits on the inside/left seat/ the one on the aisle.)

"He lives in Gotham, shhh class is starting," Marinette says, quickly. She's thankful that conversation is over. She just met Adrien and she doesn't need him to know everything.

-------------------------------------

Tag list:

@northernbluetongue @chocolatecatstheron @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @gwennex @abrx2002 @sonif50 @silvergold-swirl @sturchling @rosep16 @toodaloo-kangaroo @captainmac6 @crazylittlemunchkin @tired-butterfly @emo-elaine13 @book-lover-2006

#maribat #batfam #damian x marinette #lila salt #marinette x damian #alya salt #damian wayne #marinette x batfam #ml salt fic #wifiwrites

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

Text

Donald Duck: Christmas on Bear Mountain Review!

Happy Birthday Uncle Scrooge! Yes it was 73 years ago that everyone’s favorite stingy adventurous billionaire entered this world. And I only NARROWLY missed it as I only found out this was coming up when looking up various character birthdays during the writing of my review of “The Three Cablleros”. I now have a word document with all the various important duck characters birthdays so this doesn’t happen again, but i’m glad I did my homework as I can celebrate one of my faviorite character’s birthdays. And Scrooge is one of my favorites. While I relate to donald’s everyman slacker spendthrift was a tad more, I still love this old bastard. He’s badass, quick witted, and earned every bit of his fortune square outside of one moment of weakness. But he has his flaws: He’s horribly cheap, quick to anger, and very dismissive and distrustful of people for good reasons and bad. He’s a complicated, interesting character and one that still works today in the reboot.. if with some slight tweaks to make him less of a greedy monster by modern standards. He’s one of my favorite comic book characters, and one of Disney’s finest, so it only felt right to honor him by going back to his roots with his very first appearance and a story that like him is 73 years old today. It’s also one I had never read until today’s review. So does this storied tale still hold up? How diffrent was Scrooge? and are there any actual bears in the story? Well come along with me as we take a trip up to Bear Mountain and find out. This story, if you didn’t know, is by Disney Legend and Scrooge Creator Carl Barks, easily the most influential and well known duck artist.. felt like it was worth mentioning since without Carl none of this would be possible and as usual his art is gorgeous and unique to him. On with the show.

We open with Donald and the Boys depressed, as Christmas looks to be pretty drab. While the boys are sad they don’t have a winter Cabin like everyone else...

Donald is even more bummed he can’t afford dinner or presents as he mentions this to the boys, being flat broke. It’s also a nice character beat that Donald, despite his usual hedonism.. would be just fine, with his depression coming from the fact he can’t even give his boys a proper Christmas let alone presents. It’s a stark adult fear and something that really hits as I find the money to buy Christmas presents for all my friends and family during my current unemployment, though commissions, have been helping.

But yes i’m doing my first Christmas review before thanksgiving’s even come in. But given the serendipity of Scrooge’s birthday and the fact I wanted to read it at some point before covering the last chapter of life and times anyway, since said story takes place DURING this one. I’ll explain how in a moment. Plus frankly with me already having to do my christmas shopping while I have money, I still feel the spirit of the holiday, so I honestly figure why not.

But all that aside, the Nephews muse things might be better if their rich Uncle Scrooge would remember them, but probably not. We’ll meet scrooge, if you care to continue, after the cut.

We then cut to Scrooge’s mansion. Two things to note. The first is that he has a mansion here. Now for us Ducktales fans, it’s not unusual, he lives in one in both series. But being even MORE frugal in the comics meant after this he mostly lived in the money bin to save .. well money. So he dosen’t have the mansion after this and Don Rosa explained it, as he did really most aspects of scrooge’s life, in life and times, having him decide to sell the place after also deciding to reopen the bin. Just a neat fun fact. The other fun fact is that his angry pose and expersion here were later homage in “Last Crash of the Sunchaser!”, in one of Ducktales 2017′s easily most heart pulling moments: the ending of the episode showing Scrooge truly alone once again. It’s also a nice refrence to Life and Times as at this point scrooge was just as miserable and alone according to Rosa’s masterwork, with the boys and Donald coming into his life being the thing that revitalized him. So let’s get on that shall we? Scrooge is wallowing in his misery, having never had any fun according to himself and thinking maybe giving a present could be fun.. and decides on his Nephew as the one to give it to. But in typical Scrooge fashion instead of just giving his Grandson a gift, he’s going to have to earn it. He sends a letter to the Boys and Donald offering up his cabin, fully stocked with goodies and presents. A bit pricey for who Scrooge would become, and a bit odd to see him not complain.. but it still sets up his character as someone who wants people to WORK for what they get, but can genuinely get behind someone who shows good character, in this case he’s hoping, but Doubting, Donald will end up showing himself to be brave. And it’s STILL more plausible he’d buy luxury items to prove a point to himself, than it was in that one Ducktales comic I reviewed where he spent presumably millions to teach a ten year old a lesson about getting everything you want. Which yes really happened.

Still not over that one, what the actual hell, let’s move on. Basically if Donald passes the test, he’ll get a real true present and if he doesn’t, well Scrooge will have fun anyway. It is easy to see the difference in character here: While parts that would later become bedrock, his code of honor and his wanting people to EARN things instead of just having them handed to them, as well as him sometimes being a huge dick about that are there, he comes off more as a golden age villain cackling in his lair than the awesome but flawed adventurer we’d all come to know and love. I mean while he’d be no less kind to the Boys and Donald about their poverty later, this time he’s especailly bad tempting them with a nice christmas they couldn’t afford and planning to scare the bejeezus out of them. But I do like seeeing where Scrooge came from, STARTING as a decrepit old bastard and transitioning into the adventurous old bastard we all know and love. I have come to realize I do have a soft spot for characters earlier appearances, seeing what changed, what was there all along, and what was tweaked. It can be a mixed bag: with Marvel for instance sometimes you get Spider-Man, who was starkly anti-social and on the verge of understandably lashing out at the world a LOT in the first few issues, and prone to issues you wouldn’t see in a superhero comic back then. Hulk started out much smarter, greyer and meaner, eventually leading to the Joe Fixit persona being created as a result of this decades later.

On the other hand some examples are less enjoyable like Sue and Reed Richards, who back at the start were a sexist “panicky female” stereotype and a sexist mentally distant jackass, while Hank Pym and Wasp were again, a sexist mentally distant jackass, and another stereotype this time thinking almost entirely about fashion and boys. All four would go on to be MUCH better characters with age, with the occasional slip up. I bring this up because Scrooge... is still a good character even here. While he’d become even BETTER, he’s not bad at all here, just a bit different is all.

Back at the plot Scrooge reveals his plan by scaring the shit out of his butler: To dress up as a bear, head up the mountain and scare his nephews to see if any of them have any bravery. While Donald whimpers over the thought of bears and we get an okay gag of him thinking a squireel was one, Scrooge is forced to turn around due to the weather and gives a villain monologue about never having given anyone nothing in his entire life. I swear to god he’s basically Mr. Burns in this one.

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Then again I would also FULLY expect Scrooge to do this to Donald in the barks stories, just maybe not have it be lethal. MAYBE.

While Scrooge harumphs over his bad luck the boys and Donald enjoy a wonderful sleep. Despite Donald’s fear of bears, which the boys insist are hibernating, accurate, the boys force him to go out and get a Christmas tree by the age old tradition of whining until he does so. After going out back to find a tree to chop down Donald finds dead, ugly looking tree that’s weirdly heavy. To no one’s suprise, and to Donald’s natural luck, there’s a baby bear inside and as Donald gets a nice Christmas eve dinner ready for the boys, though after hearing some rustling he assumes a bear is present.. which it is. A baby bear. Awww. The little guy toddles around, and we get af ew pages of antics, with the boys chasing the bear, donald being a coward, and the bear getting into things and ending up on a rollerskate, which is referenced in life and times. However while the boys eventually find the baby.. it’s MOTHER, angry it’s cub is missing finds them and once Donald finds her, the four naturally hightale it out of there. The bears then eat all their food.. though the boys assume “there goes our presents”. Uh guys.. the presents aren’t gone you just don’t have them right this second. They aren’t showed destroying them or anything just leaning on them slightly. I mean the well stocked pantry and any candy in the presents are toast but there’s still a pretty sweet saxaphone there. Take a look.

See the most their doing is likely wrinkling some clothes, at worst flattening that skateboard.. or whatever that Mama Bear is sitting on. I mean I get in the larger sense they can’t get them because bears, but still. Once they pass out the boys send in Donald to get ripped apart by a bear.. er to tie up Mama Bear so they can get the house back, rightly pointing out that they’ll freeze to death anyways.. even though they you know have a car and could just leave. Then again knowing Donald’s luck i’td probably jsut lead to this.

The boys aren’t slacking though and are going after the cub while Donald passes out in fear next to the bear. Scrooge arrives, but is spooked by the cub and is proud to see his young nephews valiantly chase the bebe, and is impressed by Donald’s seeming bravery, decides, after fleeing in terror which is funny. Not in line with what he’d become but STILL really funny. But anyways he decides to throw them a proper christmas as a reward. So the next day and, thanks to Don Rosa one part of life and times later, we end on Christmas Day as for the first time in decades, Scrooge basks in the warm glow of family, and is happy probably for the first time in years. He gifts Donald a bear skin, he faints, haw haw haw the end.

FINAL THOUGHTS: This story holds up extrodinarly well. While some aspects like Scrooge being generous or cowardly don’t jibe with his later character, it’s forgivable since, again, first appearance, and it’s an entertaining story. Granted his plan hasn’t aged well, but it’s still a fun Christmas set story with some good gags and an entertaining villian. While not Scrooge or Donald or Barks finest hour, it’s still a good bit of hollday fun that gave us one of the best characters of all time. And for that, ill be forever greatful. If you liked this review, you can comission one of your own via my ask box, direct message or discord (technicolormuk#6550), if your more comfortable not doing buisness on here. UPCOMING REVIEWS TO KEEP AN EYE ON THIS SPACE FOR Loud House Coverage: Band Together/ The Other One Ducktales: The First Adventure! Ride of the Three Cablleros: The Three Cablleros Ride Again!

Until then you can check my backlog on my various pages and remember, there’s always another rainbow.

#ducktales #scrooge mcduck #christmas on bear mountain #carl barks #donald duck #huey duck #louie duck #dewey duck #christmas #comics #reviews

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