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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years ago

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Gilded Cage - Part 2

Thanks so much to everyone who read and voted on part 1! The votes were very close. In the end, option A won out, with 6 votes, while option B received 4 votes. That means that Villain will tell Journalist the truth.

I received a number of amazing suggestions for this part, based on the questions from last time around. I would like to publish their names to credit them, but I am currently waiting to see if they would like this or not. I’ll edit this post if they give me permission to publish their names.

Edit: @jenny-ruths-writing-blog has given me permission to credit them for their ideas. I would appreciate it a lot if you would give them some love, they’re just starting out.

I hope you enjoy!

CW// Imprisonment, collars, shock collars, villain whumpee, implied torture, depiction of a panic attack, scopophobia, mentions of death, mentions of hostage taking

Villain didn’t notice when they fell.

They weren’t even sure that they fell at all. One second, they were on their feet, face stretched into a smile. The next, their knees grew weak, and they were on the ground, a pain growing in the back of their head as though it had been struck.

Their vision blurred as they felt their breathing speed up, paradoxically increasing to such a point that they were no longer taking in sufficient oxygen. They couldn’t feel their hands, or their legs, or... Oh god oh god oh god, where were they? Why couldn’t they breathe?

It was hard to be sure whether the pressure on their shoulders was real, or just another hallucination of an oxygen-starved mind. As the other pains softened into the background, however, that pressure stayed.

There was a noise... where was it coming from?

Was it a voice? Or music? Or just a far away hum of the fluorescent lights? Slowly, slowly, it began to fade closer and closer to reality.

“Hey, hey, oh god, please don’t tell me you’re having a heart attack or something. God dammit, you hit your head, can you hear me?”

The words blended together into a mix of slurring syllables, all spoken with a tone of nerves and concern.

Concern.

They had almost forgotten what that sounded like.

“Please, please say something. You’re not dead, right? That’s not how death works, right? Come on, come on.”

The pressure on their shoulders tensed and loosened in rapid succession, managing to somewhat revive their consciousness. Breaths rapid and shivering, they opened their eyes. Though it took a few seconds for their vision to clear, they still jumped at the face only a few inches from their own.

“Hey, hey. Are you awake? I see you- Your eyes, come on. Are you okay? Please, please be okay.”

Villain’s thoughts swam in their head a moment, a plastic ball drifting about in a fishtank. Their training returned to them faster than their senses, and their empty expression suddenly sprung to one of politely metered cheer.

“I’m just fine, Journalist. I apologize. I must have fallen.”

They shook their head, shaking off as much of the panic as they could. The words had come out on instinct, not out of thought, and Journalist seemed to have noticed.

“You... You fainted. I think? You don’t have a fever, do you?”

One of the hands on their shoulders moved to their forehead, flinching away a moment later.

“You’re cold. Um... is that bad? That’s like, the opposite of a fever, right?”

“‘m okay...” Villain muttered, remembering where their half-numb hands were and using them to right themself into a sitting position on the tiled bathroom floor.

“What happened?”

“It’s... I’m fine.” The words came out dully. It was hard to feel sorrow when feeling emotion at all was nearly impossible.

“Is it this thing?” Again, the hand moved, this time to their neck. A shiver ran up Villain’s spine as fingers ran along the scarred flesh beneath their collar.

They should have been used to being touched, even when in such a state, but for some reason, it was just making them feel worse.

“Please. It’s okay.” They protested. They just wanted to go back to sleep. “Don’t worry yourself.”

“No. No.” Journalist, who seemed to have formerly been in a kneeling position, shifted their legs so that they were sitting criss-cross before Villain. Their breathing slowed, panic turning to concern on their countenance. “If you’re sick, or hurt, or something, I can’t let you go out there and do that interview. It’ll just make you feel worse.”

“I’m not hurt! Or sick.” Their protests grew in volume and intensity as they fought to get to their feet. Their attempts were, however, thwarted, as the feeling in their legs had yet to fully return just yet. “Please. Just drop it.”

Journalist frowned.

“Villain. Tell me what’s going on. Please. We- I can get you to a doctor? We have a van just outside... Fainting out of nowhere isn’t normal.”

Villain blinked a few times, lips ajar. They didn’t know what to do. There was no script for this. They could do ‘how are you,’ they had the response for that well memorized, but ‘are you okay’ ? They didn’t know that one. They’d never been taught that one.

They...

Villain wanted so badly to lie. To smile, perhaps say that they slipped, or that they were narcoleptic, or something. Anything that would get them out of here and back on script.

But...

When would anyone ever ask them again? Ask them what was wrong? Offer to help? With their luck, it would almost certainly be never.

Almost unconsciously, they wrapped their arms around their chest. A comforting hug. The kind that no one had offered them in so long.

“The...” They raised their hand to their neck, curling a finger as far under the metal ring as it would go. “The collar. It’s a collar.”

“A... collar?”

The smile that crept onto their lips was one of sorrow. A sadness so profound that it became funny.

“What did they tell you?” Their self-hug grew tighter.

“What do you mean?”

“About me. How did big, bad villain go from terrorizing the city to, fucking, making television appearances? What was their story?”

“They- I guess they just said you’d seen the error of your ways. That you were a good guy, now.”

That sorrowful smile grew wider.

“I just chose to be good? Is that it?”

“Well, they said they talked to you, there was something about therapy?”

Villain’s smile turned to an audacious laugh.

“Therapy?” They shook their head. “Is that their code word for beating someone into submission?”

“W- What?”

Villain tapped the collar, a hollow noise ringing out.

“Shock collar. 100,000 volts, or something stupid like that. They didn’t fix me. I’m not a good guy. I’m still just as dangerous as I ever was. But now I’m... under control.”

At that, they hung their head.

More gently this time, Journalist again raised their hand to Villain’s neck, placing their finger under the collar. Feeling the burnt flesh.

“You’ve been here- You’ve been in their custody for months.”

“How could I forget?”

“You just... gave up?”

Those words alone were enough to send a pang of nausea through their chest.

“What choice did I have? Anything to make the pain stop. Heroes and Villains... all of them, they’re just as human as anyone else. They feel pain just as much as anyone else. And sometimes, that pain just gets to be too much. Fighting back just isn’t worth it anymore.”

They raised their head, forcing a rehearsed smile back onto their lips.

“But it’s okay. It’s the best way to keep the city safe. Sometimes you have to break a few eggs.”

Journalist’s concern turned to frustration, but whatever words they were about to say were halted by the sound of knocking on the bathroom door.

“Journalist? Are you in there?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re live in ten. We need Villain on the set.”

Their head turned back to Villain, who nodded.

“Okay. We’ll be right out.”

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“Turn your head a little to the right... Raise the chin, little more- Keep going, there! Okay, stop. And look at the camera. Right here, this lens. Sasha, can you go touch up their hair, please?”

Villain struggled not to flinch away from the blindingly bright lights that stared at them in a semi-circle. They sat on a small stool, hands perfectly held together in their lap. Their neck was already cramping from the position they were fighting so hard to maintain.

Stage lights always made the burns on their neck hurt. Hurt worse, that is.

From the bustling area behind the cameras, an assistant appeared, rushing over to Villain and yanking a small, black comb through their already-done hair.

It took all the will they had, and a little more than that, to choke back the tears that desperately wanted to rise in their throat. To scream and shove the stupid, clueless assistant to the ground. So they would stop fucking touching them.

But they didn’t. They sat perfectly still, cheeks aching from their smile.

“We’re live in one!” A screeching voice came from somewhere Villain could not see. The assistant retreated, and the cameraman started up the device that was his namesake.

It was difficult to see behind the blaring lights, but silhouettes that may have been people seemed to be rushing about in a panic, taking position. That shrill voice began to count.

“Thirty...”

“Twenty...”

“Ten...”

‘And we’re live!”

A red light appeared on the camera, and Villain tried not to imagine just how many eyes were on the other side of it. For a terrifying few seconds, they were there, alone, before the world. That was, until footsteps sounded, and someone sat in the chair next to them.

They didn’t dare look. Didn’t dare to turn their head away from the camera, to muss their perfect posture and hair.

“Welcome, everyone, to News at Nine!”

A single bead of sweat formed on their forehead.

They had assumed that Journalist was simply one of the many busybodies that the news crew dragged around with them. Not the reporter.

They could only hope that their gulp couldn’t be seen in the recording.

“As promised, tonight, we have a very special guest. Villain, it’s so good to have you here, tonight.”

“It’s great to be here.”

“Yes. Now, I really wish we could spend some time on niceties, but we have promised our wonderful viewers at home a very special interview, and we wouldn’t want to disappoint, now would we?”

“Of course not.”

“Now, Villain, I’m sure everyone remembers you in your, well, in your villain days. Would you care to explain where you have been since then?”

An expected question. They had a script for this. It flowed from their mouth like water.

“Well, after my capture several months ago, I have been working with and learning from the Heroes of this city. I understand that what I did in my previous occupation was wrong, and since then, I have been working to right the wrongs I have caused. Now, I am an advisor for the Heroes’ Organization. They say to catch a villain, you need to think like one, and, well, I have plenty experience in that field.”

They didn’t take a breath, not the whole time. When they did, after finishing their monologue, it sounded far too much like a sob.

The script was bullshit. They weren’t any kind of advisor. It was a fancy word for prisoner. ‘Advisor’ would imply that they weren’t locked up for 20 or so hours a day, when they weren’t eating or appearing before the cameras. They couldn’t advise the Heroes on anything if they tried. Their very voice was treated as though it was the funniest joke anyone had ever heard.

“And it is your position as an advisor that has led to the events of last night. Is that right?”

“I would say that it played no small part in it, yes.”

What the fuck happened last night?

“That event is what I want to speak to you about today. Our viewers have been very keen to know your thoughts on the matter, so let’s get right into it.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“So, Villain.” Journalist seemed to let their chipper attitude fall in favor of a more relaxed one. “How did you feel, exactly, when you first heard about Supervillain’s death?”

They wanted to throw up.

The Heroes did not allow them access to any outside news, but could they at the very least have said something? Anything?

Anything?

Keep to the script. Keep to the script. Keep to the script.

But they didn’t have one.

They swallowed.

“Um... I- I felt... Uh...”

The collar felt to be tightening around their windpipe.

“It’s okay. Do you need a moment?”

“No, no. I apologize.” Villain shook their head. “It’s just so shocking, to hear it said so plainly, like that. When I first heard the news, I have to say, I felt... conflicted. Certainly, it’s a good thing. But at the same time, I worry about what their absence will mean for the other villains in this city.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I suppose I’m afraid of a power vacuum forming. Or that the other villains will attempt to act out in vengeance, of a sort.”

“That’s understandable. Did you know Supervillain personally, at all?”

Of course they did. Everyone did. Every villain, at least. Their organization was informal, but entirely centered on Supervillain. If a villain was seriously hurt, or worse, Supervillain was there for them.

Some called them mother.

“I wouldn’t say I knew them personally. I met them, a few times, but they were always very distant. Not to mention that they were a bit terrifying.”

Behind the camera, Villain spotted a form appear. One of a very familiar stature, and wearing a very familiar cape.

“I’m sure they were. I’ve never met them in person, but even just on TV... that’s scary in its own right.”

No. It wasn’t. Supervillain wouldn’t hurt a fly. Not unless they were acting in self defense. Hell, they made sure their hostages all got lunch, for gods sake.

Villain nodded.

“It is scary.”

“On that note, do you believe that the city will be safer, now, with Supervillain gone?”

Two more figures. Two more capes.

“I do. Even with the possibility of a power vacuum or avenging attacks, ultimately, this will be a good thing for our city. Anything to keep those at home safe.”

“Of course.” Journalist paused a moment. “I understand that some villains have already made announcements decrying the actions of Hero. Do you believe that they were right in their decision to kill Supervillain?”

Villain gulped.

Behind the camera, Hero joined their comrades. Their gaze pointed directly at their prey, sitting beneath the blazing stage lights.

“No. I don’t believe that Hero was right.”

The words made their mouth feel numb.

“Supervillain was dangerous, yes. But there is a difference between stopping someone from causing harm and ending their life outright. Had it been me, I wouldn’t have committed a murder.”

The cameraman raised his eyebrows.

Even in silhouette, Villain could see Hero clench their fists.

“That’s a very interesting take on the matter, and that seems to be the stance that many others, villain and citizen alike, have been taking. I believe that’s all the questions I have for you, today.”

Journalist’s gaze turned to the camera.

“After a word from our sponsors, the weather! It’s gonna be a scorcher this week, folks. And don’t forget to stick around for the reveal of the new fashion line: Be Your Own Hero. Thanks, everyone!”

The little red light on the camera blinked off. Villain felt about to puke.

Finally, finally, they felt able to move their neck. The cramps were bad enough that doing so hurt terribly, filling their muscles with pins and needles. They stood as the stage lights flicked off, one by one.

Revealing, in full detail, the Heroes.

Most of them looked various degrees of concerned or frustrated. That was, all except Hero themself. Their face was twisted in a horrid mask of pure, unadulterated fury.

Villain felt their legs lock up, as if staying on set would protect them. Already they couldn’t breathe. They wanted to gasp for air, but the collar was crushing them, choking them, and they wanted to cry. Oh god, the tears were already beading in their eyes. They swallowed them, but more threatened to well up, to take their place.

A pressure on their shoulder nearly made them jump. Only their eyes would move, all else locked up, but they could see well enough to locate what was touching them.

Journalist.

Their face a mask of concern. Panic, concern, and worry.

They dropped their hand, stepping back as Hero practically stomped over to Villain. Their face had turned to the brightest smile, but that did nothing to diminish the rage in their eyes.

“Villain, good job on the interview. That must have been a difficult one.”

“A little difficult, yeah.”

“Well, good on you for getting through it. If you wouldn’t mind, let’s go back to my office for a minute. Just to have a little chat.”

Villain paled.

They knew full well that Hero didn’t have an office. What they did have was a sound proofed room with a very specific purpose.

That pressure on Villain’s shoulder returned. Journalist’s hand.

“Well? Are you coming, or not?”

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What should our Whumpee do? It’s up to you to decide!

There are two options, each one leading to a separate story branch. Alongside each option is a question specifying what exactly will happen. Answering this question is completely optional, but it is great if you have any particular ideas! Otherwise, feel free to just put a letter.

To vote, feel free to use any means you would like to contact me. Replying or reblogging this post works just fine, as does PMing me directly or sending me an ask. I am unsure when I will be writing the next part, so as long as the next part hasn’t been posted yet, voting is still open!

I will choose the story path based on which option has more votes, and will choose whichever answer I find the most interesting to base the next part upon.

The choices and questions for this part are as follows:

A) Go with Hero - What should Journalist do?

B) Refuse - How should Villain try to get out of it?

If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to contact me. This is my first time doing anything like this, so I apologize if it’s odd or confusing ^^

#whump #whumpee #whumpblr #choose your own adventure #choose your own whump #gilded cage #villain whumpee #whump community #hero villain whump #hero villain prompt #whump prompt

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stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale · 3 years ago

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I don’t get you, CJ. Why are you so quick to throw around the term “bad writing” when you don’t agree with something? Why not simply chalk it up to having different likes or dislikes than other people and move on?

Instead of deconstructing characters you don’t like, why not use your platform to empower other voices and highlight others with different tastes or opinions than you? Different people notice different things about the games. That’s one of the nice things about fandom.

You clearly love writing and analysis, but when you post answers to asks that hold different opinions than you’re own, you often go “you’re valid, but…” and launch into paragraphs upon paragraphs of your opposite opinion rather than truly exploring theirs.

I guess what I’m trying to say is I think your blog and analyses would be stronger if rather than dismissing plot points or characters as “bad writing” you step outside yourself and ask others what they see in that writing since it’s not connecting with you.

To be fair, anon, I don't get me either.

But I hear you, so if you'll allow me to do the thing where I launch into paragraphs upon paragraphs, let's talk about this.

I assume this might've come about because of the recent Violet talk here? Or maybe it's from older posts, I dunno, you didn't specify so I can only speculate and use the Violet posts as the main example here.

So here's the thing... deconstructing characters and storylines is something I enjoy doing. Hell, it's one of my favorite things to do. It doesn't matter if I like or dislike the character, or if I agree with plot directions, or if I think it's "good" or "bad" writing. That's how I work things out for myself, how I try to understand why I'm feeling the way I am about certain characters and story elements. I break apart the different aspects of these things and analyze them so that I can improve the content I create and try to avoid the same mistakes I've come across that I wanted to be better.

When it comes to me tossing around "bad writing", or just implying it, I'm not trying to say that "bad writing = trash, garbage, unenjoyable, anyone who likes this is a dingus, how could you?" it's more "I see flaws here and I want it to be better, I know it can be better and it frustrates me that I can't fix it," y'know?

And I'm fully aware that other people might not see it that way. With that basketball Violet post, I know that a lot of the Violet crowd are gonna read that and be like "no, I love the bell tower scene! It fits well with her character! What are you talking about?" and that's fine, I expect that. That post was me writing something that's been on my mind that I wanted to share, it wasn't me trying to scold anyone for liking it or trying to dismiss their feelings about it.

When it comes to differing opinions, especially on Violet, I've come to the conclusion that we just gotta agree to disagree. I've tried for years at this point to understand the appeal of Violet and gone looking for answers about her in hopes of being enlightened, and I have asked around.

In the past, I have made posts inquiring about what people see in Violet [Minerva, too] and why they prefer Violentine, and I got little to nothing in response. So I totally get where you're coming from when you say I should ask others what they see in the writing that I don't, but there's only so much I can do when no one is willing to answer me. So, I have to look around myself.

I've searched through several threads on reddit and none of them have been insightful, unsurprisingly.

That's what sparked my mini-rant about Louis before. On reddit, a lot of the answers on why people like Violet are either "she sided with Clementine, she's just really sweet deep down, she has more trauma, and lesbian," or "I like Violet more because Louis is a traitor," and what the hell am I supposed to get out of that, y'know? They're not really telling me anything, they're just looking to argue among themselves and I've had to throw in the towel on that one.

I've had better luck here, having read some truly insightful posts about Violet, her arc, and her relationship with Clementine. The conclusion I've reached it that the things people find appealing about her are things that I don't.

If you need an example, we'll use the aftermath of Marlon's murder when Violet turns on the group to defend AJ. Every post from the Violet crowd I've read that talks about that scene praises her for turning against her friends/family to defend AJ when they were gonna attack him, it shows what she's willing to do for them, that's something that drew them to her. Then there's me, who sees that as adding unnecessary aggression to the situation when none of them were going to attack AJ, they weren't looking at AJ, and none of this is helping. Neither of these interpretations are wrong.

Guess what I'm trying to get at is I'm one person, and having discussions takes more than one willing person.

Moving on, "when you post answers to asks that hold different opinions than you’re own, you often go “you’re valid, but…” and launch into paragraphs upon paragraphs of your opposite opinion rather than truly exploring theirs."

I've thought about this for a while, and maybe I do actually do this but don't realize it. I like to think that I'm engaging with the ideas that people send me, but I dunno, maybe I can be dismissive of things because I have a hard time being objective. That's something I've always struggled with, and I'm sorry if I ever came across as dismissive or didn't fully explore ideas, that's something I can definitely get better at.

As for "why not use your platform to empower other voices and highlight others with different tastes or opinions than you? Different people notice different things about the games. That’s one of the nice things about fandom."

I've done character nights, ship nights, season nights, etc. for about two years, give or take. That's what those nights were about. Usually, I'd put up a poll and we'd all vote on what we wanted to discuss, and then the floor was open for anyone to give their input, and we'd discuss.

I stopped doing them a little while ago because I was burnt out on themed nights. Remembering to make new polls, setting aside part of my weekends to spend hours answering asks the best I could, usually dealing with other projects on top of it all.... it may not seem like it, but god, those nights took a lot out of me. I loved doing it! Having those discussions were some of the best parts of running this blog, but now my new job has me working 40+ hours a week, four days with ten hour shifts and occasionally some overtime on the weekends, I just don't have it in me anymore to do it every single weekend. Not with how tired I am and with all the other projects I'm working on.

That's why I've started testing the waters with these shorter posts of me throwing out ideas or going on mini-rants. They're something simple I can do with no pressure, just me with an empty document getting whatever's on my mind out... and it helps that it feels like my last fuck has just flown away to the heavens to weave itself into the boat god's beard like as he sails among the clouds and stars..... so now I'm gonna talk about whatever I want and the fact that it's my opinion is implied.

I'm sorry if I'm coming off as a little defensive with this part, I tend to get that way whenever people tell me what I should or shouldn't do with my blog, even if they're just trying to be helpful and I don't believe you have any ill intent with your message. I've had this blog for three years now, and I've always had people telling me I shouldn't do character analyses, I should stay in my lane, just write fanfics and do character nights. I should answer more asks otherwise people will think I don't care. I shouldn't write headcanon posts, that's what other blogs do and I'll be taking content away from them. I shouldn't write that one au I've always wanted to because I should be working on [with you]. I shouldn't write anything but [with you.] I shouldn't talk about Violet because I'm a Louis blog.

And that's dumb. All of that is dumb! No one owns the concept of headcanon posts or character analyses! Just like how I don't own the concept of character nights!

Again, my last fuck is lost in Kenny's beard, I don't have it anymore. I'm going to write and analyze whatever I want, when I want, and the best I can do is promise to be better. My inbox is open, I'll try to answer and engage with you guys when I can, I'll keep doing these posts where I ramble about whatever topic is on my mind, and I shouldn't have to put a disclaimer of "This is all my opinion and it's okay if you disagree, I'm not trying to invalidate you" because that's implied.

Before I close out this long response, I do wanna add a thank you for the ask, I do appreciate the constructive criticism. Usually anons that have any problem with me after I talk about Violet will just call me a piece of shit and tell me to delete my blog. Maybe this helped you, maybe it didn't, either way thanks :)

#asks #twdg clementine #twdg louis #twdg violet

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alexseanchai · 3 years ago

Text

I posted 9,262 times in 2021

311 posts created (3%)

8951 posts reblogged (97%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 28.8 posts.

I added 8,645 tags in 2021

#miraculous ladybug - 2763 posts

#adrien agreste - 1587 posts

#love square - 1086 posts

#marinette dupain cheng - 864 posts

#marinette dupain cheng - 574 posts

#ml spoilers - 550 posts

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#gabriel agreste's a+ parenting - 345 posts

#adrienette - 290 posts

#fandom history - 223 posts

Longest Tag: 132 characters

#e. keep on scrolling because if it means anything other than yes-or-no then the thing i’m looking at is not relevant to my interests

My Top Posts in 2021

hey, you know what we did not see in "M. Pigeon 72"?

Adrien stressing over Ladybug looking like she was replacing Chat Noir.

this would be the episode for it: I think it's the only time outside of "Style Queen" and "Chat Blanc" where Chat Noir hasn't been vital to victory. (I mean, I suppose the zoo escapees in the first bit of "Syren" could have been handled without him, but that wasn't an akuma. and in the rest of "Syren" and in "Anansi" and "Sandboy"--which I highlight because he let her see him worrying about being unneeded, even if she didn't notice that's what she was looking at--Ladybug really needed Chat Noir.) and though in "M. Pigeon 72" as in "Style Queen", Plagg was vital? any not-otherwise-occupied kwami could have done what Plagg did here, and Chat Noir could not have done what Rena did. (not without the Fox, anyway.)

and we did not get a single moment of Adrien worrying that Chat Noir is unnecessary or replaceable! not one!

233 notes • Posted 2021-05-23 19:24:36 GMT

suppose that, when Gabriel gets outed as a terrorist, all his assets get frozen, in accordance with legal something or other about terrorist-supporting financial stuff.

1) how screwed is Adrien personally?

2) who all else is screwed, and how many of them are there? like, if Gabriel Fashions money stops moving, how many paychecks go up in smoke, and whose are they? so far I've thought of his designers and sewists and accountants and boutique outlet staff, anyone whose creative effort's budget depends on his being executive producer (which may or may not actively include Clara Nightingale and the "Animaestro" animation studio), whoever's been hired to cater the Agreste Foundation’s Heroes Gala, the said nonprofit's own staff...

239 notes • Posted 2021-05-27 02:06:53 GMT

I don’t understand why people who object to the insufficiently leftist actions of the current White House are framing those objections as though “vote blue no matter who” in 2020 was a problem

Biden is indeed insufficiently leftist! but wtf do y’all think 45 would be doing right now? and why are y’all complaining about the 2020 election instead of putting pressure on Biden to be more leftist now?

247 notes • Posted 2021-10-21 22:24:57 GMT

okay but what if Adrien, on seeing Marinette running for Kagami's car and therefore not going to notice Adrien doing this, backtracked real quick to rescue the pottery wheel from the trash

planning originally to return it to her, since clearly it was meant as a gift for someone else (possibly Buttercup) and the intended recipient should still get it, either that or she should have the option of returning it to the store for a refund

but Plagg talks Adrien into using it (maybe it comes with a sample size of clay idk)

so Adrien promises himself he'll pay Marinette whatever the pottery wheel costs, but he doesn't tell her this quite yet

and with some conspiring with the art teacher... (because Adrien can't do anything as messy as throwing pottery at home, never mind glazing or firing pottery, and smashing the wet clay is an important part of the process and also an excellent emotional outlet)

and then there's a pink ceramic present waiting for Marinette in the classroom one morning

a bowl or pencil holder maybe, something Marinette will both use and like the look of, and Adrien signed his work

405 notes • Posted 2021-10-27 01:50:07 GMT

judging by relative sizes and distances shown in “Dearest Family”:

Tikki’s galette des rois is about as thick as the Earth’s diameter, ~12,700 kilometers, and has a diameter of about eight and a half times the Earth’s, ~108,000 kilometers

it is about seven and a half times as far from the Earth as the Earth’s diameter: ~95,300 kilometers

and since Astro Chat has to have gotten safely back to Paris within five minutes of Cataclysming the thing, he has to have been moving at over 320 kilometers per second

for reference, escape velocity relative to the Earth’s gravity is 11.186 kilometers per second

902 notes • Posted 2021-10-20 23:26:17 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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iwrestlenow · 3 years ago

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It All Starts And Ends With You, Chapter One (Stories from THE EMERALD)

TITLE: It All Starts And Ends With You, Chapter 1

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: The nature of a drake, human versus dragon, isn't just tragic backstory. The supernatural halfbreeds are a living duality, two creatures in one skin. Every drake is, essentially, a twin soul.

Unlike most twin souls with a Necromatic match, however, a drake can choose.

For Janus, giving Patton his human soul was easy...but a secret from his past means that his choice has consequences...consequences he was never supposed to face, because Patton would never be free.

So much for a sure thing.

SHIPS: Moceit (Patton/Janus), Dragon Witch/Original Male Character and background Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: Future smut--warnings for all pertinent chapters will be posted.

...so apparently there's going to be a few side stories in this series? This takes place shortly after MANY MORE TO DIE, but it's not the big sequel. It's very much a side quest type thing because Janus Has Backstory and I Have Moceit Feels(TM). XD

Also, later on there WILL be smut in this story, but the chapters will be labeled--and I'm planning to make them skippable if I can. Otherwise I'll summarize plotty things in the end notes. So you filthy minded animals can have your debauchery, and those less inclined can still have all of my feels. :P

Per usual, unbeta'd self indulgent drivel, all mistakes are mine. ONWARD TO SHIPPYTOWN!

Also located at AO3 over here.

1019, A.A.

“Jay! A word?”

Eleven year old Janus Ormor looked up from the book he was reading on the floor of their living chamber. Father was captain of the guard, and as such they had better quarters in the palace than some other soldiers—shutters on the windows, softer beds, and the rug in their living chamber was far more comfortable than his bed, especially with a fire going.

Janus always had trouble staying warm—which never seemed right, since he was half dragon, but if Father wasn't worried then neither was Janus.

Marking his place carefully, Janus set his book aside and got to his feet so he could dash across the room to crawl into his father's lap. Yeah, it was kind of juvenile—he was eleven, Shadow's sake—but Father ran hot, and Janus was not above stealing a little of that warmth from him.

Knowing that, Timothy Ormor smiled and loosened the top couple buttons on his collar, allowing Janus to press his forehead to the curve of his neck as he crowded close with a satisfied sigh.

“What's going on, Father?”

“Nothing, really, just...well, your birthday is in a couple days.”

“Uh huh! I'm really excited! I love surprise parties.”

“How did...”

Janus looked up at his father with a smile, earning one in return. Father finally laughed, shaking his head.

“Sometimes I forget how good your ears are, wriggle worm.” Father sighed, tugging Janus closer. “No matter—yes, we're throwing you a surprise party. Think you can pretend?”

“I'm real good at pretending!” Janus assured him before cuddling up to Father's chest again.

“Well, that's good...but, uh...we need to talk 'bout something else.”

“What's that, Father?”

“Well...you know the story I told you about how you were born?”

Janus nodded, tucking his head against Father's neck again. “You and Mother loved each other very much, so you--”

“Not that part, imp!”

Giggling, Janus continued.

“--after Mother found out she was with child, you guys let me be born in the way of the dragons: she changed form, carried me for a year, and I was hatched a few weeks after the egg came. I didn't get my human form until I was a month old.”

“Well...that's the thing, kiddo...Shadow's Balls, there's no easy way to say this...”

“Say what, Father?”

“I...damn it, but I promised her you'd know your people. Thing is, Jan...your mother didn't have you with me.”

Janus felt his stomach get cold inside.

“What do you mean? You...you're my father.”

Timothy ran a hand through his son's hair, staring into his bright and confused little face. He wasn't overly fair, but his jet black hair washed out his complexion some, his dark eyes glittering in the firelight.

He was so easily mistaken for human with that beautiful face—until he heard things no child his age should. Until he stuck his hand in a fire and came away unburnt. Until he grew slow and lethargic in the cold...until those dark eyes bled yellow as daffodils, pupils lengthening into reptilian slits.

“I'm your dad, wriggle worm,” Timothy confessed, “but the truth is...I'm not actually your father.”

********** 1033, A.A.

“Sneak attack!”

Janus dropped his book as Patton rushed straight at him, flinging himself into Janus's lap and wrapping his arms around his neck to squeeze tight.

“I could see you coming, sweetie.” Janus pointed out with a sigh that didn't match the fierce swell of affection in his chest, hot and restless, compelling him to hold Patton in return with arms wrapped carefully around his waist.

Patton's giggle, right in his ear, sent a pleasant shiver up his spine. “But you didn't know I was gonna hug you!”

“Your arms were open for one.”

“So?”

“You also do this at least three times a day.”

“Only because you said four was too many!”

Patton drew back to pout at him this time, and that hot swell of affection stretched in his chest to the point of pain. Since Mori's death and Roman's installment as regent until the coronation, Logan and Patton had been given free reign of the castle, along with a few other Necromata prisoners the pair had vetted. Until their freedom was voted on by the citizens, they couldn't be released, but they could at least be made comfortable, and given room to reclaim some shred of normalcy.

Which meant Patton could, and did, visit Janus far too often, greedily devouring every hug, cuddle, hand hold, or simple hair ruffle he could gain access to. Janus could hardly deny him...and Janus wanted it all just as much.

Gods, Janus wanted, too much and too soon and too...inhuman.

Staring into Patton's face, Janus's vision was tinged with rays of gold. A gilt to every dark curl on Patton's head, flecks of gold in those deep blue eyes turning them into true lapis...shimmering gold lips pooched into a mock scowl, gold dusting the faint array of freckles he was acquiring after a few weeks of sunlight...

Pressure. Warm, steady, gentle...

Janus blinked, realizing Patton had his forehead pressed against Janus's. He was talking, words Janus couldn't hear but felt, soft and soothing and endless to fill his ears and press back the shimmering film over his vision.

The gilt edges faded away. His eyes were blue, deep and still and endless. He was Patton again, not...not some worthless hoard.

Just Patton, soft and sweet and bloodthirsty, infinitely more precious.

“...got you, Janny, my beautiful Janus. I got you, you're doing so good, you're so good for me...”

...okay, that couldn't be allowed to go on. Not when it made warmth pool far lower in Janus's body, made him want something entirely different—and wow, he was not ready for those kinds of personal revelations today.

Clearing his throat, Janus reached up to gently touch Patton's cheek.

“I'm all right, Pattycake. Promise.”

Patton watched him dubiously, a far more serious version of that pout forming on his face again...Gods and Souls, he wanted to run a fingertip over that lush lower lip. Or maybe bite it.

“You were growling.” Patton replied suspiciously. “And you were feeling cold. You're never cold, you're always warm as toast.”

“It's nothing, truly. I was just...distracted.” Janus tried again. “Work related, got me a little upset is all.”

Patton narrowed his eyes—then leaned back in to hug Janus again. Janus hugged him back without thinking...and felt his breath catch when he swore, swore to all the dragon gods, that he felt the tiniest press of lips against his neck before Patton burrowed in, pressing his face there.

“No one's 'llowed to upset my pretty dragon.” Patton mumbled against his throat. “Gonna eat their liver.”

Janus knew enough to know that was a very genuine threat, petulant as it sounded—and the promise of bloodshed should not make his heart throb with the softest pulse of tenderness and adoration. And yet...

“No more cannibalism, remember, darling?”

“It was one time, and it was an accident!”

Janus had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as Patton drew back to whine at him in protest.

“Yes, darling. Of course—entirely accidental. Naturally.”

“Humph. Not talking to you anymore.”

“Understood.”

“...the Lord Father is here to see you.”

Janus felt his blood turn to ice at that.

“Janny? You okay?”

With a sigh, Janus gently patted Patton's knee.

“No, but this was inevitable. Up, Paddock darling. I've business to attend to.”

********** He seemed bigger than Janus remembered.

Walking into his office, he was unsuprised to see Josiah Crofter standing within its walls, back turned as he stared out the window, arms folded across his chest. He wasn't, technically, allowed to be here and leave free, but Josiah had made it clear to the prince regent he knew how to access the castle at will—and had been given leave to do so whenever he wished to see his family.

When Janus was thirteen, he'd been a hungry giant, and now...now he was exactly the same despite the fact that Janus was now a grown man. Tall, too, thanks to that seven foot frame in his ancestry. Somehow, even still, Josiah himself was the bigger, the prouder, the more intimidating.

Clearing his throat, Janus announced his presence. Josiah didn't even turn around.

“You got good men servin' you, Deceit.”

“Do not call me that.” Janus replied flatly, sauntering over to his desk. “The walls have ears. Granted, most of them are mine, but loose lips and all. Unlike the rest of you, I take protection of my True Name very seriously.”

“Unlike the rest of us, son, it can't be used to hurt you. Not anymore.”

“Yes, you saw to that, didn't you?” Janus bit off tersely, sinking into his chair.

Josiah fell silent, taking a moment before he finally turned to face him. He was a stoic wall for several seconds before his expression just...melted, cold gray eyes going smoke-soft as he watched him.

“You look so much like your momma it hurts.” Josiah murmured, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards. “It's a good hurt, mind, but...I know you don't believe me, but seein' you's a balm on old wounds, little ember.”

That caught Janus by surprise—and he hated that. He was the one with the surprises, the tricks, the knowledge...but this man had things he never would.

Father knew who Janus was, but Josiah Crofter...he knew where Janus came from. He knew the why, the history and the parts and how they worked together, because they were a part of him as well. They were, quite literally, part of his soul.

“Which part?”

The question left Janus without his permission, torn from the small, secret part of him that had been inexorably drawn to his birth father's doorstep from the moment his human half had truly awakened for the first time.

He wasn't sure what he even meant, but somehow Josiah knew all the same.

“Both. All.” he replied, deep voice heavy with affection that settled over Janus, warm as fire and soft as the heaviest flannel blanket. “You got her scales and her hair—and in human form, her eyes were always that same shade of yellow you got on the one side.”

The knowledge hit him hard, formed a fist and plunged straight into his chest. It was comfort, it was agony...and it was a much needed reminder.

Josiah Crofter knew him as even his own father couldn't—and far too late, Janus learned to fear him for that reason. Far too late.

Janus's True Name was proof of that.

“Is there a reason you're here to see me, Lord Father?” he replied instead of addressing the observation. “Or did you come her to merely wax sentiment?”

A flare of hurt, then anger passed through his expression, clinging to his bones with its painful familiarity. Timothy Ormor was a man slow to anger, patient and steady—unlike Janus, whose swift mind was only outpaced by his heart, burning with the fire of the dragons.

Lashing out with anger instead of grieving or showing fear. This man was where he got it from.

Like Josiah did now, composing himself and folding his hands behind his back, he would default to a steady and inscrutable mask, cover the truth with strength and decorum.

“I came here to check on you.” he replied evenly. “Your situation with the Morrel boy ain't exactly a common one. Does he know?”

“About my condition? No.” Janus replied flatly. “And he never will.”

“That ain't an option, and you damn well know it.”

“It is if we aren't together.”

Josiah's brow furrowed, expression clouding with confusion. “You a Jadeheart?”

Janus rolled his eyes. “That term is archaic as all Seven Hells—no, I am not aromantic. Nor am I asexual, which is hardly your business—oh, I'm sorry, Soultouched.”

“You love that boy. You're bonded to him.”

“Your point?”

“...so you did give him your human soul.”

Janus fell silent, stubbornly holding the other man's gaze until he grit his teeth with a growl.

“Ah, Hells...”

Janus didn't like the way Josiah's breath left him in a rush, the way he cursed as if he'd just lost something precious. He didn't like the way he hung his head, shoulders slumping in something like defeat.

Janus didn't like the way he felt suddenly like he'd done something to deliberately hurt him.

“He was a Black Dog with a pure heart.” Janus hissed. “The purest heart...anyone who didn't know would assume he had a soul already, how could I give him anything else? How could I kill that human heart with a monster's soul?”

As he said it, he felt the reality of it sink into him for the first time, saying it out loud like that.

Because unlike most twin souls, a drake could choose.

And when Janus gained an inkling of what might be happening, when he felt that moment come—to give of himself, to release something of himself into Patton's care, of course—of course he chose to give Patton, to trust Patton, with everything in him that was human.

“You know what's gonna happen if you hold yourself away from him, son.” Josiah warned.

Janus narrowed his eyes at him, but could no longer bear up under Josiah's scrutiny, his eyes flicking down to his desk.

“Tell me this, Father: if you knew that you were going to become every foul thing the Animator stood for, if you knew that you were going to turn into your own father, would you have married my mother? Would you have exposed her to that monster?”

There was no answer from Josiah. Janus didn't expect one.

The closer he grew to Patton, the worse it got—and now that the sweet little killer was no longer safely tucked away in the dungeons or sequestered in a single wing of the palace, Janus was slipping.

Consumed by the hunger for possession. Tormented by visions of riches. Haunted by the knowledge that, if given half a chance, he would consume Patton whole just to sate his growing thirst for more.

Without his human soul, Janus was losing his grip on himself—and if he couldn't do something soon, the dragon—Deceit--would be all that was left of him.

#janus sanders #patton sanders #moceit #sanders sides #fanfic #necromancer au #fic series: the emerald #my name is liz and i swear to god i will fic again

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fymonsta-x · 5 years ago

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[ADMIN]

Hello, we meet once again! I don’t particularly enjoy writing this kind of personal posts on FY!MX, but seeing as things are getting out of hand, I urge you to reason with this post.

It has come to everyone’s attention that there are some movements growing on Twitter, that aim to pressure Starship Entertainment and demand answers, by posting disruptive content on the MONSTA X official fan cafe. This is an awful idea and could jeopardise everything Monbebes have been working hard for, and let me explain you why:

This type of projects thrive on fans’ despair and promises “fast answers” and “fast developments” by pressuring the responsible company, something that is far from being possible given the current situation. I remind you lawsuits are currently taking place and I guarantee you that, from my own personal and work experience, things can get dragged for at least a year before they actually see justice in court. Spamming the fan cafe, one of the only places we have to communicate so closely with MONSTA X, with hateful and pressuring posts will only jeopardise the entire fan/group safe environment and push the group away from the fans. And guaranteed, the court won’t suddenly work faster because you’re growing impatient and want to see results right now — please, please be patient and above all, respectful.

The current hashtag events going on on Twitter are not indicative if a fan has given up or not on getting answers from Starship Entertainment. The hashtags are meant to bring visibility over an issue that happened and is far from being solved, and that concerns not only Wonho, but several other idols that have been through the same thing. Although ambiguous, Starship is handling things this way for a reason, that we don’t know of, so it’s best to just hold on to this single fact: currently, Wonho is no longer a part of MONSTA X. That’s all we know and that’s what we need to accept as of now.

Clashing with a culture that is not your own is, in no way, the correct way to solve this situation. By going up directly against Korean Monbebes’ opinion you’re being disrespectful towards social and cultural matters that I’m sure a native understands better than any outsider. Address MONSTA X’s international labels, such as Epic Records and Maverick Management — heck, even their profit-oriented manager if you really have to —, who are more likely to understand and listen to your concerns and represent you next to Starship.

I understand that waiting is difficult and that you want to hear from Wonho, but right now it’s still particularly damaging for him (and obviously, by association, for MONSTA X) to just show up. Noticed how the storm of rumours immediately died down as soon as he went away? Even the initial posts that started it all got deleted? These events targeted Wonho for a reason, and right now it’s just not safe for him to be out there, in public. Starship Entertainment is also being investigated for corruption, while four of their new generation trainees are being blamed for that and cursed all over South Korea, without being able to promote. Please reason with the fact that Starship has a lot on their hands right now (what goes around comes around, rightfully) and getting an answer might be difficult, especially if no one’s mentally prepared for them to say something we don’t want to hear, as I’m sure they most likely will.

Although the waiting posture may seem passive for some, I promise you it’s the best thing that you, as a fan, can do right now: and waiting is not the same thing as giving up. So while we wait for legal developments, here’s a bunch of other things you can do for MONSTA X and that will actually show the entire world that MONSTA X can face and overcome adversity:

Stream their songs: digital points took a lot of music show wins from MONSTA X and continue to do so unless Monbebes unite beforehand and stream their songs on Korean platforms so it can reflect on their first week of promotions;

Watch their MVs: give visibility to the group by making them popular on Youtube, all the time. Views can only benefit us, as we’re rewarded with bonus content;

Vote for awards: please take some time of your day to vote for the V LIVE Awards, AAA and MAMA.

This fandom has showed how powerful it is for the last couple of weeks, once they unite and walk together towards the same goals. Right now, your focus should be on MONSTA X, who need to be reassured that they can move on past this unfortunate situation. Does all of this suck? Absolutely. Will it get solved overnight? Not a chance in the world. Please don’t trust Starship Entertainment blindly, searching for answers you might never receive; this kind of companies exist to find profit in their audience, not to be your best friend. Instead, make sure MONSTA X can enjoy their last years as a group (under Starship) calmly and successfully, next to their fans.

✨ Please don’t take this post as a “Well then, I should give up on Wonho/MONSTA X” type of post. It’s okay to have hope, and if you’re tired, it’s also okay to go away for a while. Things will get solved eventually, just not right now, let alone by force. It’s mentally exhausting that fans have to go through this everyday and I just want to tell you that sometimes, waiting is simply the best option.

#t: admin #191112

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nekoannie-chan · 4 years ago

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The night we met

Pairing: Brock Rumlow X Reader.

Word count: 1674 words.

Summary: Something went wrong in the last mission, something that completely changed his life, Brock doesn’t know how to overcome what happened and continue with his life.

Warnings: Some smut references, death of a character, nothing explicit.

A/N: Flashbacks are in italics.

This is my entry to @imma-new-soul ‘s Jay’s 550 followers writing challenge and to @angelinathebook ‘s Lena’s 300 followers writing challenge with the song prompt #1 y #5:

“The night we met” by Lord Huron.

Also is my entry to @ugh-supersoldiers‘s Gracey’s 5K Challenge with prompt #6:

“If you could feel what I feel when you walk into the room, everything about ‘us’ would change”.

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

If you like it please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

I am not the only traveler

Who has not repaid his debt

Brock was sitting on the floor, he saw the bottle in front of him, and there were also the photos, some of which were taken at your wedding, many of your dates, others of special moments in your relationship.

He knew that at the time he should not get drunk, he had another obligation that needed him, but it was very difficult to continue with that pain.

It hurts so badly, he didn't know how he was going to get over it, he didn't feel able to continue, he was very angry because everything changed, the plans that you had now made no sense.

It supposed you will be old together, you were going to have several children and they would see they grow up, but Werner von Strucker came to ruin all the plans, even though they had captured him, it wasn't enough, he wanted revenge, he needed to make he pays for destroying his family, but his teammates wouldn't let him, they claimed he would pay, however, they didn't understand what you meant to him. , nothing would be enough to make up for what had taken away from him.

I've been searching for a trail to follow again Take me back to the night we met

He could remember in great detail how you knew each other, both had entered as recruits for S.H.I.E.L.D.

You used to be away from the rest of the recruits, almost always alone, you seemed very shy, he used to always be chatting with one of his teammates.

That's precisely what caught Brock's eye on you, he didn't understand why someone as beautiful as you wouldn't want to draw attention.

He felt lucky when he touched them on the same team in the first practice.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you introduced yourself by extending your hand.

"Brock Rumlow," he replied by holding your hand.

You were a great team, you always gave the best results.

The first time he asked you for a date, he'd never felt so nervous before, for a moment he thought you were going to turn him down, he walked into the office you were working on to invite you in.

"Do you want to go to the fair?” He invited you.

"With you?” You asked distractedly.

“Yes... Well... forget it, never mind,” he retracted.

You blinked a little, you finally understood what Brock had asked you.

"I'd love to, as long as it's just you and me," you answered.

He smiled a little, the nerves were gone.

"Only you and me, Saturday at seven o'clock, I pick you, okay?”

"Perfect.”

And then I can tell myself What the hell I'm supposed to do

He looked up a little more, in a chair, was the first stuffed animal he had given you, the face you had put in made it worthwhile, it had been a successful first date.

"Do you want some of those stuffed animals?" he asked when you walked past one of the stands.

"Do you know how to play it? I'm too bad for those games," you said.

You stopped in front of the post and paid.

"Which stuffed animal do you want?" he questioned.

"That dog," you pointed out.

Never before had he felt so pressured to win a prize, he played and won it, he immediately gave it to you, you looked like a little girl.

"Thank you, you're very skillful," you thanked him.

You kissed him, you barely grazed his lips, but that was enough for him.

And then I can tell myself Not to ride along with you

Your kisses, he was going to miss them, your body, your caresses, everything from you.

He needed to know if you two were in a relationship to know how to behave, if it was just an adventure, would set aside your feelings.

"So what are we?” He asked.

"Aren't we in a relationship? I thought that...”

"We've never talked about it before..."Then I have to assume we're nothing or we can be in a relationship if that's what you want,” you figured.

He kissed you.

I had all and then most of you Some and now none of you Take me back to the night we met

He felt it was all his fault what happened, he must have insisted that you stay at the Compound with Wanda that day, if he could return the time, he would prevent you from going on a mission.

You were lying in bed after making love, you had your face hidden in his chest, while he hugged you with one arm and with the other hand caressed your hair.

"Marry me," he said suddenly.

"Hmm?”

You raised your face, you weren't sure what you heard.

"I know it's not the most romantic way, but I want to spend the rest of my life with you," he continued.

You smiled, you passed a finger over his chest.

"Are you sure? I can be very unbearable," you answered.

“If you could feel what I feel when you walk into the room, everything about ‘us’ would change.”

You bit your lip, you knew he couldn't stand the intrigue.

"I don't think you're very convinced.”

"I am more than ever, do you want to be my wife?" he asked again.

"Yes, but only if you give me my engagement ring," you answered, laughing.

"I'll buy you the one you like the most," he promised.

He kissed you and you made love again.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do Haunted by the ghost of you Oh, take me back to the night we met

He stroked his wedding ring with one finger, what was he gonna do now?

He saw your wedding photo, it was one of the happiest days of his life when he started thinking that he should do things right.

He took the picture, for him, you had been the most beautiful bride in the world in that dress.

Sometimes you used to dance to the song that had been your waltz at your wedding.

You were married for four months when he decided to tell you the truth.

"I have something to confess to you," he said out of nowhere.

You looked at him with doubt, even though you kept muddying the jam on the bread you were having for breakfast.

"Are you cheat on me?" you questioned trying to stay calm.

"What? No! I couldn't do that to you.”

"Ah... then it can't be worse,” you answered calmer.

"I'm HYDRA," he finally said.

You dropped the bread out of your hand.

"What? Oh... Brock...”

What were you supposed to do? You never suspected he was the enemy.

"If you ask me I'm going to confess everything to Fury, I don't want to lose you, first listen to me, there's a good reason for this...

You had heard and supported it, in the end as promised he confessed everything to Fury and even helped dismantle the organization enemies, yet many enemies had been gained.

When the night was full of terrors And your eyes were filled with tears

When you announced that you were pregnant, he immediately prevented her from going on more missions, he didn't plan on taking any chances, finally, he was having the family, he had always wanted.

One night you got up when you heard noises, they came from what would be the baby's room, when you walked in you saw Brock opening boxes with the furniture that would be in the room.

"Brock, isn't it very fast yet, I mean, I'm only three months old," you asked.

He turned to see you, he didn't think he was making so much noise.

"Everything must be ready by the time the baby gets here," he replied.

And when the little girl was born, he didn't care if they saw him crying, it was promised that he would protect his daughter from any danger.

Tears fell again when he remembers when the doctors told him that you were dead.

When you had not touched me yet Oh, take me back to the night we met

“Brock…”

It hurts a lot, he crouched down to check your wounds.

“Y/N... wait... help is on the way," he said.

"I don't think...”

”Shh... everything will be fine, they're on their way," he repeated.

He was trying to stop the blood loss, but you'd already lost too much.

"I love you, tell our daughter that I love her too, please take care of her, take care of her, please, I’m sorry….”

He tried to keep you from talking to keep you from running out of energy.

The wait in the hospital had become eternal, as soon as he saw the doctor immediately rose.

"I'm sorry, they didn't make it," they informed him.

"Did they make it?" he asked.

The information was like a bucket of cold water.

I had all and then most of you Some and now none of you Take me back to the night we met

You were three weeks pregnant, he couldn't help wondering why you hadn't told him yet, what he didn't know was that you were going to tell him the night that you came back from the mission.

He wiped away tears when he heard the door open.

"Daddy?" the little girl came into the room.

"Hey princess," he replied by opening his arms to get him closer.

The girl ran to hug him.

"Sorry, she got away," Wanda apologized coming in.

Brock beckoned her that he was fine.

"Mommy doesn't love me anymore?” The little girl suddenly asked.

"What? Why do you say that?” Brock questioned.

He had asked not to tell him anything that had happened, he wanted to explain it to him himself.

"She didn't come back," she replied.

"Your mommy loves you, do you remember Lucky?”

"Mom's dog? Yes, he liked me to give him my candies.”

"Mom and Lucky are together," Brock explained.

"In heaven?”

"Yes, from there they're going to take care of us," he continued.

"Why didn't she say goodbye? We're not going to the park on Saturday anymore?" the girls asked distraughtly.

Brock sighed, it was harder than he had thought, and he had been promised that all three would go on the weekend.

"In a little while we'll say goodbye to your mommy, don't worry, you and I are going to the park," he told her.

He got up and carried her, it was time to go to your funeral, it was going to be very difficult, he kept feeling that his world was collapsed, he would give everything to go back to the day he met you and avoid making all the mistakes, he would be able to do anything as long as you were alive.

However, he couldn't let himself be beaten, his daughter needed him.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do Haunted by the ghost of you Take me back to the night we met

#Jays550 #lenas300challenge #graceys 5k challenge #brock rumlow #brock rumlow x reader #brock fanfic #brock rumlow fanfic #brockrumlow #brockrumlow x reader #brockrumlow x y/n #brock rumlow x you #brock rumlow x t/n #mcu brock rumlow #rumlow x reader #rumlow x you #crossbones

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littlelightingstriker · 4 years ago

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Disclaimer: this post is not made to cause anger or to insult the Serbian government, it is simply made to report on the news what has been going this past days. Some of the information might be to strong, so please read on your own risk. People who are mention in this story will remain anonymous for their own safety.

#Serbia now:

On the 7th of July,2020, president Vučić announced that Belgrade will be closed and have a curfew between Friday and Monday and that more than five people should not be in the same space together. He talked about a lot of things like how many people are being tested, the possible 'lies' the government has been saying, Novi Pazar, a city located in south-west Serbia, who is in a critical situation because of COVID-19, respirators and many more. He talked about how people need to understand that this virus in not a joke in any possible way and people need to take more action and protect themselves and their family. The problem is half of the population does not believe the virus is either real or that it does not have the affect to enter the human body that fast. People are confused and keep asking the same question that nobody can answer. When he announced the possibility that people will have to stay the whole weekend in their homes, many people were frustrated with the decision and did not want to take his words for real. At the evening, massive numbers of people gathered at the National Assembly and started protesting. The protesting was not in anyway ' peaceful ' but ended being a disappointing vandalism.

Three cars and a police van were on fire. The damage was immediately posted. Hundreds of thousands of dinars are worth of damage.

Torches, tear gas, oysters and glass bottles were being thrown between the protesters and police.

Many people were injured and many police man were hurt. "It was a disaster. We tried stopping them but there were to many." said one policeman.

One of the protesters wanted to break in the National Assembly but were thrown out by the police.

Two men stopped an ambulance that was driving to the hospital with rotations. The two men were punished for their actions and many were disappointed with them.

Protesters DID NOT WANT any politician to join them and act like they care for citizens' rights.

Ana Brnabić was disappointed to see citizens' of Belgrade acting like 'h**li**ns'.

Kosovo was/is also another reason why people turned against Vučić.

Vučić was in the National Assembly but quickly evacuated with the situation going around.

A video of three men being hit and be*ten by the police after rejecting to leave the park was filmed and posted on different sites. The three men were laying on the ground in pain as the police left them.

A man, lost his father due to COVID 19 and blamed the government for lying about having enough respirators. He claimed his father was not given the treatment that was promised and was one of the most critical patient (and many other) in Belgrade. "This is for you, dad. I know you are watching and you are proud. I love you,dad. This is for you!" Said the man. After this video resurfaced the internet, everyone was angry that president Vučić lied about 'having enough respirators' and many left comments that they were not surprised and what a disappointment this country is for believing the words that come from the television.

Protesters are being accused of spreading COVID 19.

97% had masks but still did not distance.

Lockdown will be decided by the crisis staff.

The 8th and 9th of July,2020:

President Vučić has decided he will NOT make the decision about Belgrade. He admitted he has no right to make a decision he isn't to sure how to control.

Many faces were supporting the protest and they were not citizens' of Serbia. -Vučić.

Criminals were mention that they were the ones who were 'trashing' Belgrade.

COVID 19 has no connection with voting, football games etc.

Vučić kept bringing people down while making his people 'world leaders' and 'only hopes for Serbia'.

05.10.2000. is a wish protesters want to come true. ( The fall of Milošević)

Vučić is in shock why people keep bringing his country down while he is doing everything to make it 'grow'.

There will be rules for Belgrade no matter what.

Novi Sad, Niš, Kragujevac also started protesting.

Tonight (9th July.) protesters are peacefuly protesting and tend to keep it that way.

Politicians are calling out h**li*ga*ns and cri**na** after 'destroying Belgrade' and doing vandalism 'on purpose'.

Many people are angry that Belgrade is being in the situation where it's not safe anymore and being trashed by some idiots who don't even live there or came from a different city. They are accused of 'pretending to be Belgraders'. It is proven that they are more than 80% Belgraders in the world then in the own city. Belgrade is composed from all citizens' across Serbia.

Students are protesting after being told they have to leave their dorms for the third time because they need to be prepared for COVID 19 patients. "We don't feel safe. We want our rights!".

Protesters are being called out for fighting for their rights.

Politicians are calling protesters 'criminal slaves' for wanting to remove Vučić.

"We aren't allowed to stand for our rights. They tend to keep us locked when we thought everything is going undercontrol. They are playing for our rights. I lost my friend because she was told to stay home even though she had other medical problems. Instead of celebrating her birthday, I was mourning her name and crying. He (Vučić) doesn't care about us, he just wants the money. He has it. He is building Belgrade on Dunabe and he still thinks we care about some stupid project. How are we not going to protest? I do not like and I am against harmful and disgusting behaviour some people showed the first day and even now, but we can't just stand here and pretend everything is okay. He stole votes and as soon as he secured his seat, this country got even worse. How are we suppose to live here? How can we try and stay positive after everything he has done. My family lives in Kosovo. He gave it. He just sold that land like nothing. He doesn't care about people. He acts like a human but even the facade can't cover his personality. No one can look up to us and that's okay. We don't want '99 again. We want peace. We all want, all of us, we want to breath not to feel pressured. We tell our kids to get the hell away from this country and to never look back. There is no future here. We all know that. He always breaks his promises. Kids grow up and become adults, what children is he talking about?! Where is their future if he is only building Belgrade? What about the South? East? West? Where are their rights?! We are all equal and we all deserve so much more. We have to pray and hope for the best, but in this life we are always going to be left down. " a woman gave her thoughts about protesting.

Other reason's why people want to dismiss Vučić:

He promised everyone 100 Euros when COVID 19 became serious in Serbia. He realised his mistake and ended up giving the money to retired people and people with special needs. Other had to register. He went from helping to you have to do this so I don't embarrass myself.

People were paid to come and cheer for Vučić when he would give speeches.

He lied about the respirators.

People believe that the number of positive patients fell just so that elections could happen.

After elections, Serbia became the worst in numbers of positive cases.

Before elections 50-94 cases, 10-20 respirator patients, almost everyone is cured, Serbia is almost done with COVID 19.

After elections 300+ cases, 120-130 respirator patients, 1000+ in hospitals, 1000+ in isolation, Serbia the most critical on Balkan.

He knew Novi Pazar was going to blow up. He did not do anything.

Belgrade hospitals do not have respirators.

Belgrade has a population of 1 million residents and yet doesn't have the medical needs.

He doesn't have a full government. What kind of country is Serbia then?!

Something that cannot be answered:

Why do people who die from other reasons are COVID 19 victims?

How come the number of cases grew?

Did the government lied all this time?

Was professor Kon right all this time?

Why are people not in hospitals if positive?

How to isolate if you do not have your own bathroom and kitchen?

Why are there no punishments for not wearing a mask?

Is there really a vaccine?

Is the virus real? Is it possible to make it disappear?

Opinion:

Vandalism is not the answer. People have every right to judge Vučić. He is not that bad, but he is not a sweetheart either. Luckily people are peacefully protesting and want to learn to have manners. The police is trying everything to not fight the protesters. Punishing other people for the damage is not right. Being called disgusting names from politicians needs to STOP! We are all people with a heart, we say and do things we should not but that is not the point. Being called a cri**na* is disgusting. Everyone is frustrated with the virus going on but we have to be reasonable. If you are someone who lost a loved one due to COVID 19, my heart goes for you and everyone you love and care about. This is a scary year. It's breaking my heart so many people died not only because of COVID 19. The virus is not the main problem here. People are. This going on in Belgrade is eye opening. It shows people want a break. They want freedom. They want, like every other country, to feel safe. I totally understand the point of view from some people. I ,too, also know there is no future in Serbia until someone really comes and actually cares for people. If territory and fake promises are more relevant then a person breathing, my God save us.

Comment's about Vučić

We are a small country and we never were known for good things, but honestly, how can we have that if we don't have a leader?

Lies and lies. Breaking promises. Being disgusted with people that don't like your way of ''handling" a country. Manipulate people and bringing them down. Having politicians spit on your people?

Is that a joke or is Vučić going to take this seriously.

Kosovo is more important than people?

How cruel do you have to be?

How disgusting that sounds.

We are told people are dying for God's sake and yet you talk for 2 hours and that is it.

Tito is rolling in his grave.

Liar!

Why does anyone expect something good from Vučić?

Oh Serbia, poor little Serbia.

- comments from different sources.

For more information of these protests, feel free to look them up. I gave my personal opinion and I missed a lot of information about this protests but I shared the ones that needed to be put here.

If you are someone from Serbia, feel free to speak and to be free. If you wanted a change and did not get it, either run or keep blessing this country. You deserve much more. You'll get past everything. Keep running. Fight peacefully. Be normal and be mature. I wish everyone so much and pray everyday we get some peace and actually feel like people.

Don't look up to politicians. Nušić told us everything we need to know.

Be safe while protesting! Keep yourself safe and don't let a politician ruin your life. Bring back the rights and the light we all need.

Bring Serbia where she should be.

Not underneath.

#serbia #protesting #safe #people #equal rights #belgrade #news #hope

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theplaguebeast · 4 years ago

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Watching Game of Thrones is a Form of Self Harm

AKA ALL MY GAME OF THRONES LIVEBLOG POSTS

101 + 102: oh man i forgot dany gettin fkin raped is in the first ep man they really set the tone for this shitshow early

103: “War was easier than daughters” BRO YOU HAVEN’T PAID ATTENTION TO HER INTERESTS IN FIVE YEARS NO WONDER SHE’S DIFFICULT

104: Baelish: *literally tells Ned he’s untrustworthy* Ned: *trusts him anyways*

105: Bobby just threatened to take away the job Ned didn’t even want like that was gonna make him not quit lol what a dumbass

106: every time viserys speaks there’s a muppet superimposing on him in my mind going 'i aM tHe DrAgOn!’

107: Joff after being king for .5 seconds: KILL THEM ALL

108: Drogo: *promises to rape, kill, pillage, and plunder* Drogo: *does these things* Dany: *surprised pikachu meme*

109: Robb ‘We’ve basically accomplished nothing’ Stark

110: hey Dany doesn't even have dragons yet and she's burning someone alive as punishment so uhm people were surprised when this continued?

201: Robb ‘I want to rescue my sisters but holy shit, politics’ Stark

202: Theon ‘I think i’m much more important than i really am’ Greyjoy

203: Renly desperately trying to consummate his marriage like ‘i’m too fucking gay for this fuuuuuuck’

204: Littlefinger popping up in Cat’s life like ‘so your husband’s dead can we bone maybe?’ and gets surprised she pulls a knife on him

205: Theon ‘I want dad’s approval so i’m gonna stab my brother in the back’ Greyjoy

206: Jon ‘I can definitely kill a pretty girl, I swear it’ Snow

207: you know nothing jon snow is first used in reference to fucking and SHE’S RIGHT

208: Yara ‘you’re a fucking moron, brother’ Greyjoy

209: i love that tyrion getting his nose chopped off with an axe turns into a delicate slice that knocks him out

210: Robb ‘u let the kingslayer go u can’t tell me it’s dumb to marry a rando when i’m promised to another’ Stark

301: Tyrion ‘oh my god there’s a thin line running across my face i’m a MONSTER’ Lannister

302: Loras is fkin RUDE yo

303: Podrick ‘the whores won’t take my money’ Payne

304: Dany’s acquisition of the Unsullied proves she’s 100% willing to do a bad faith deal like

305: Jaime full on sexually harassing Brienne here like an asshole

306: T^T POOR FUCKING ROS MY BABY

307: BRONN CALLING TYRION OUT ON HIS WANTING TO FUCK A VERY TALL 13YR OLD GO BRONN

308: Olenna poking fun at how fucked the tyrell-lannister family tree is bout to get with all these weddings what a boss

309: awww how sweet jon’s learning to stand up to peer pressure

310: Jon ‘u said u loved me you’ll never hurt me RIGHT?’ Snow; Jon ‘shot full of arrows’ Snow

401: Oberyn is #triggered by the lannister song

402: w00t joff’s fukkin ded m8

403: Stannis ‘blood magic is fine but I WON’T BUY AN ARMY’ Baratheon

404: poor pious little tommen didn’t stand a chance against a tyrell on a mission (also, s’fuckin creepy aight she’s bein predatory af and no one ever seems to call it out bc she’s, yanno, female)

405: HODOR

406: HEY LOOK DANY IT LOOKS LIKE INDISCRIMINATE VIOLENCE MAKES PEOPLE MAD AT YOU WHODA THOUGHT

407: Petyr ‘you could’ve been my child but i still kissed you full on the mouth’ Baelish

408: Baelish acting like it’s some big secret he wants to fuck Sansa, talking to her like she’s too dumb to know the man who KISSED HER FULL ON THE MOUTH wants under her skirts, what a cocky shit

409: hi Ghost (where, uhm, where tf has he been?)

410: grabby hands, popping outta the snow, LIKE DAISIES

501: Danaerys ‘my dragons are my children but since they’re not listening to me i’m gonna lock em in a dungeon and then get surprised when they’re upset with me’ Targaryan

502: man brienne just keeps getting character assassinated by everyone in fkin westeros poor gal

503: Janos ‘I DIDN’T VOTE FOR YOU’ Slynt

504: Sansa’s last Big Mistake: when LF says ‘do you believe me’ and she goes ‘yeah sure’

505: a good mother disciplines her children BITCH THAT’S NOT WHAT YOU DID YOU JUST SHOVED THEM IN A HOLE, NOT EVEN THE ONE THAT ACTUALLY DID THE THING YOU’RE UPSET ABOUT

506: OH NO. OH NO. OH NO.

507: Cersei’s like ‘my son loves his wife where did i go wrong?’

508: ’killing and politics aren’t always the same thing’ THE FACT SOMEONE NEEDS TO TELL HER THAT

509: Hizdahr zo Loraq is like ‘bitch do you know ANYthing about the culture you’re trying to destroy?’ (the answer is no)

510: Stannis: *sacrifices his own daughter on a fire* The Men: *desert* Stannis: *shocked pikachu meme*

601: Up to their chests in ice water mfers gonna get the hypothermia

602: HI JON U HAV A NICE NAP?

603: Tormond ‘your dick’s not big enough for you to be a god’ Giantsbane

604: For someone so good at peeling people Ramsay can’t peel a fuckin apple for shit

605:

606: *compulsively humming along with the theme song*

607: HI SANDOR! I bet u had a VERY nice nap huh

608: Stealing Lem’s boots after hanging him, what a power move

609: Jon ‘I want to die’ Snow

610: RIP Pycelle, Margaery, Loras, Mace, Kevan, Lancel, High Sparrow, a bunch of Faith Militant, and like 100 various members of the court (and random peasants outside, too); also Septa Unella (the bitch), and Precious Tommen; ALSO Walder Frey and uhm like 30-40 other Freys?

701: Jon, derisively: And how should I be smarter? By listening to you?

702: Everyone: DON’T GO SOUTH JON SNOW Jon: I’m gonna go south.

703: Jon, with the ‘who even ARE you?’ is his most legit moment since he came back from the dead

704: Dany: Wat do i do Jon: DO NOT BURN PEOPLE, ANYTHING BUT THAT

705: ”I’m not beheading them” BECAUSE BURNING THEM IS BETTER??????

706: Using your +1 Flaming Longsword to cauterize a wound

707: Everyone: Jonathan, PLEASE LEARN TO FUCKING LIE

801: Dany: Whatever they want. Me: OH SO MORE CHILDREN THEN??

802: HEY DANY REMEMBER A WHILE AGO WHEN YOU SAID IT WAS COOL FOR THE KINGDOMS TO ASK FOR THEIR INDEPENDENCE? NO? ah, okay :\

803: THE CRYPTS WERE A MISTAKE

804: Murderuncle roadtrip 2.0

805: RIP QYBRUN I REALLY LIKED YOU, YOU CREEPY LITTLE SHIT

806: genuinely surprised tyrion’s not already on fire

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goldenhemmings · 5 years ago

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Slumped - A Stealing Second Extra | Baseball!Shawn

Happy Home Run Derby Day/All-Star Break, friends!! Y’all requested an angsty Stealing Second blurb, so I present to you 4.6k words of my shitty attempt at writing angst. I hope you missed reading these two as much as I did writing them. Also...can we appreciate how pretty this picture is? Anyways, feedback is always so so appreciated. Enjoy!!!

You sighed as you flicked the TV off, running your hands over your face in frustration. The Blue Jays had shut out the Rays and racked up their third straight win, but it didn’t feel like a victory to you; it was the fifth game in a row that Shawn hadn’t hit safely. You, Shawn, the team, and the entire Toronto fanbase knew that if he didn’t soon find his batting groove, he’d be watching his team play from the dugout until he could.

A slump is something with which nearly every baseball player is familiar; a period of time in which hitting safely just cannot seem to happen. Even the best baseball players experience slumps where, for multiple games in a row, their batting averages suffer from a lack of hits. This was what Shawn was experiencing, but the timing for it couldn’t have been worse. The potential All-Star Ballot was the topic on everyone’s tongue, and you were worried about Shawn losing MLB fans’ support to the point where he would no longer be voted onto the primary ballot as had been anticipated by not just you, but the majority of the baseball community.

You pulled your fuzzy-sock covered feet up onto the couch and curled up, lost in your worried thoughts as the setting sun cast an orange-tinted glow across the apartment. You had intended to wait up for Shawn to get home from the game, but it wasn’t until you were waking up that you realized you’d even fallen asleep.

You blinked the sleep out of your eyes to be met with your boyfriend standing over you, a fuzzy blanket at the ready to be draped over your once-sleeping body. The first thing he’d noticed upon walking through the front door of the apartment was how cold it was, and the second was your sleeping form curled into the couch. Shawn had only meant to cover you up to keep the chill out while you slept, but his clumsy (though well-intentioned) actions quickly woke you up.

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispered. “It’s just cold in here. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay,” you mumbled groggily, sitting up slowly and rubbing your eyes. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

At this he smiled, and you offered a lazy one back as you blinked your eyes a little more. As you came-to, you noticed that it was now pitch black outside, Shawn was still sweaty, and you became aware of the fact that you hadn’t even remembered falling asleep. “What time is it?”

Shawn sighed, leaning against the arm of the sofa. For the first time since waking up, you took note of how uncharacteristically exhausted he looked. He was always tired after a game, yes, but you had never seen him like this. His shoulders were slumped, his eyes droopy, and his hair was matted to his head. It worried you.

“It’s almost one,” he finally muttered, his eyes staring down at his feet.

“In the morning?” you cried, the post-nap haze completely gone. “Fuck, Shawn, I’m sorry. You should have woken me up earlier so I could’ve made you dinner or something.”

Shawn just shrugged. “‘S okay, honey. I just got home, anyways.”

You hadn’t thought it possible, but your worry intensified. “It’s one a.m., Shawn,” you began, carefully. “How could you possibly just now be getting home? Did something happen?”

“Relax, honey, I’m fine,” he assured you, and you let out a heavy breath. “I just stayed to do a few hours of batting practice on my own. Got Eric to leave the cages open for me.”

“Shawn,” you sighed, leaning your head in your hands. “You shouldn’t be doing extra hitting after a three-hour-long game, especially not when you have another one tomorrow. You’re going to wear yourself out and then you’re just gonna get hurt.”

“I just have to get out of this bullshit slump or Montoyo is gonna bench me,” he groaned, voice raspy from exhaustion.

“Taking hours of extra batting practice isn’t going to change the fact that you’re in a slump, love. It happens to every single player in the league.”

He didn’t respond, instead turning to walk towards your shared bedroom with his head hanging.

“You should shower,” you pressed as you got up to follow him, though it was clear the only thing Shawn wanted to do was crawl into bed with you and sleep. “A hot one. You’ve gotta be sore from all that extra practice.”

“Tomorrow,” he grumbled, tugging his shirt over his head as he prepared to join you in bed.

“Shawn,” you continued, more sternly this time. “Your shoulders are gonna—”

“Can we compromise and do Icy Hot or something? I love you, and I love you for caring, but if I don’t go to sleep in the next five minutes I’ll die.”

You sighed, your eyes taking in his exhausted frame and pleading eyes. “Okay,” you finally agreed, swinging your legs over the side of the bed to stand up. “Is it still in the medicine cabinet?”

Shawn just nodded, and you ventured into the bathroom to retrieve the trusty pain reliever. You came back to find Shawn already sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for the cream to be applied so that he could sleep.

“I’m assuming you want me to do it for you?” you teased, and Shawn let out a tiny laugh.

“Yes, please,” he replied, and you crawled around behind him on the bed and began to work the Icy Hot into his shoulders and upper arms.

It was silent at first, but only because you were taking time to calculate what you wanted to say. You knew Shawn was stressing himself out over his batting average and All-Star Game votes, but a year ago he’d never have cared about something like that. His main focus had always been to just relax and play the game he loved; the second he lost that mentality was when things started to go awry.

“I know,” you began carefully, delicate fingers still pressing the Icy Hot into his skin, “that you’re worried about your hitting. But every player has a slump at some point in his career, and it’s only your second major league season. This doesn’t take away from your talent or what you’ve done for your team and what you will do for it as the season goes on.”

He let out a heavy breath, some of the pent-up tension leaving his shoulders. “I just feel like I’m letting everyone down. Last season I finished with the second highest average on the team and now, what? I can’t even put the ball into play?”

You sighed, capping the Icy Hot and moving to sit next to Shawn on the edge of the bed. “You have to stop getting caught up in all the numbers, Shawn. When you were a rookie, it was about playing because you loved the game. Now you’re way too focused on meeting expectations and outdoing yourself and that’s not the way to approach this sport. You know how much Toronto fans love you as a player. A little slump will never change that, so just let it run its course.”

He crawled under the covers, letting out a heavy exhale of breath. “I know. But I’m allowed to worry about it.”

You smiled, lifting his arm so that you could slide under it and lay your head on his chest. Shawn wrapped his arm around your torso and tugged your body closer to him, reaching to pull the sheets up over you with the other hand. “Of course you’re allowed to worry about it, it’s your job. But if I’m being honest, I miss the Shawn that was so geeked just to be playing in the majors that he didn’t stress about his batting average, or any of his other stats, for that matter. You used to have so much fun playing that you were just good, always.”

“That Shawn didn’t have to worry about the pressure of All-Star Game voting.”

“Well, this Shawn needs a break. And I miss him.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and sighed, knowing you were right. “Let’s do something tomorrow, yeah?” You perked up, tilting your chin up to face him. “My game is in the afternoon so I’ll come straight home after and we can have dinner together.”

“Really?”

He hummed his affirmation. “No stressing about my hitting and no extra practice.”

“It’s a date, Mendes,” you giggled, and he smiled. “Now, go to sleep. I know you’re exhausted.”

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

Another game without a hit went by, and you had to force yourself to stay positive--for Shawn’s sake. He’d be home for dinner in an hour or two depending on how long the post-game press conference took, and you were excited to finally have time with not Shawn Mendes, Toronto Blue Jays second baseman, but just Shawn.

You set to work on making his favorite meal, softly singing to the music coming from the speaker on the kitchen counter as you did so. It took over an hour, but you managed to finish dinner, set the table, and clean the kitchen all before 8:00, which is when Shawn promised to be home. You sat down at the table and texted Shawn asking if he was close, scrolling through your phone to distract yourself as you waited.

And wait you did.

You were still sat at the table after a ridiculously long period of time had passed, head in your hands as you illuminated your phone screen just in time to watch the clock change from 8:59 to 9:00. You stared at the table of food in front of you and willed yourself to have an appetite for it, but you hadn’t been hungry since about fifteen minutes into sitting at the table to wait for Shawn. As if on cue, your phone finally lit up with a text from your absentee boyfriend.

Hey honey. I’m staying at the cages so I’m not gonna make dinner tonight.

You groaned as though you hadn’t figured that out forty-five minutes ago. You didn’t bother responding, opting instead to just get up from the table and take a shower in the hopes that it would calm you down. You were fuming mad over the fact that Shawn had not only broken his promise to you, but that he hadn’t even had the courtesy to text you hours ago that he wasn’t coming. You left the food all out on the table; you’d slaved all night making a meal for Shawn that he never even showed up to eat, and you were absolutely going to make that apparent.

You had to have spent at least thirty minutes standing under the stream of hot water, but by the time you got out and changed into comfy clothes, there was still no sign of Shawn. You crawled under the covers of your bed and flicked on the TV to MLB Network, catching the final ten minutes of that night’s Quick Pitch, but it wasn’t like you were watching it anyways; you were too distracted with your own thoughts.

It wasn’t until after ten that you could hear Shawn make his way through the front door, knowing he could see all of the food still out on the table. He eventually made his way into your shared bedroom, calling out to you in greeting and leaning down to press a kiss against your head. You were silent and unmoving, but Shawn kept talking about the game, the press conference, and his hitting. It took a few minutes for him to even realize that you were unresponsive, and out of the corner of your eye you could see him pause and turn to face you.

“Hey. What’s going on?”

You scoffed at the fact that he’d even had to ask that question. “You promised dinner.”

He sighed as the point of your silent treatment suddenly became apparent. “I stayed in the cages for extra batting practice. I texted you.”

As if that makes it better. “You couldn’t have let me know that any earlier than an entire hour after you said you’d be home?”

He sighed, but there was aggravation behind it. “I said I was sorry. I needed the extra BP more than I needed to have dinner with you.”

“Whatever, Shawn,” you snapped, letting out a dry, incredulous laugh. “I’m sorry your shitty batting average has to keep coming between our relationship.”

You turned your attention back to the TV and pretended to care about the show that was on. Shawn, however, wasn’t done. “Why are you being like this? Do you not want me to get back on track? To not make the All-Star Game?”

“What I want, Shawn,” you snapped, losing your restraint, “is for my boyfriend to miss spending time with me the way I miss spending time with him.” You shook your head before pressing it back down into the pillows. “And for him to understand that a promise is a promise. Some things are more important than baseball.”

“You of all people should understand that there’s nothing more important to me than baseball. It’s my fucking job.”

“It’s my job too, Shawn!” you exploded, choosing to overlook his admittance that nothing, not even you, was more important than baseball. At the end of the day, it was still only a game; Shawn just didn’t seem to get that anymore. “You don’t think it’s hard for me from a PR standpoint when one of our star players can’t hit for shit right now? You literally couldn’t even hit water if you fell out of a boat, and I have to spin that to the fans to keep your name on their minds for All-Star voting. If you’re going to act like you’re the only one affected by this you have another thing coming. You are not the only player on that team and you know every single person that’s involved with or a fan of the Jays is rooting for you to get better.”

He scoffed, tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it in the direction of the hamper. “Well, I’m sorry to be such a burden on you.”

You paused, taking a steadying breath before continuing a bit more calmly. “That’s not the point. I want you to get better, Shawn. But you act like you’re going through this alone when you definitely are not, and I don’t want you to throw me on the backburner. I’m trying here, okay? And I don’t deserve that.”

“I’m taking a shower,” was all he had to say, and you couldn’t hide the hurt on your face as you watched him stalk into the bathroom and shut the door harshly behind him.

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

You looked up from your work upon hearing a knock at the doorframe of your office, and clicked out of the video you were watching as you recognized Cassidy at the door. “Hey,” you mused, eyeing the bubbly brunette standing in front of you. “What’s up?”

She simply pointed to her wrist as though she was wearing a watch. “Game’s gonna start soon. You’d better get down there if you want to catch Shawn beforehand.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. All day, you’d been grappling with whether or not you even still wanted to go see him after the events of last night. Picking up on your hesitancy, Cassidy frowned. “Did something happen?”

“He stood me up for dinner last night.”

Cassidy’s eyes went wide. She stepped fully inside your office and shut the door behind her, pulling a chair up to the other side of your desk so that she was facing you. “What?”

“I hardly get to see him because of this stupid slump he’s in, and because of that he agreed to have dinner with me last night instead of going to the batting cages after the game, which is what he’s been doing for the past week.”

“And he didn’t show?” she gasped.

You shook your head bitterly. “I spent hours making food for us and I sat at the table forever waiting for him to get there, and then--get this--I get a text an hour later saying he’s staying at the stadium for batting practice after all. Even though he promised me he’d be home.”

“Holy shit,” Cassidy breathed out, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to see him. I’d be pissed.”

“I am pissed,” you sighed, but there was more to it than that. “But I also just miss him. What sucks is that all he can see right now is his batting average, and he’s stressing himself out like crazy. He’ll never get better with the mindset he’s in.”

“So what are you gonna do?” Cassidy wondered, leaning forward to rest her hands on your desk.

“I don’t know. What do you think I should do?”

She shrugged. “I’m not you, Y/N. I can’t tell you.”

“Ugh,” you groaned, staring up at the ceiling. “I’ll probably end up going to see his dumb ass anyways.”

Cassidy laughed, and you couldn’t help but grin despite yourself. “I’ll save you a seat in the clubhouse. You are still watching the game here, right?”

You nodded, reaching to grab your purse from a drawer in your desk. “Of course. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

“Good luck,” she said, offering a reassuring smile as you both went your separate ways. You took your usual path to the first floor Stadium Access door, following the familiar route to the little room outside the Jays’ locker room where you always met Shawn. As you walked, it occurred to you that maybe he would be the one to not show up. After all, he’d seemed equally as upset with you as you were with him even though, in your mind, he was obviously being the unreasonable one.

You took a deep breath before pushing the familiar door open, and sure enough, you were met with Shawn standing in full uniform waiting for you. You almost breathed a sigh of relief. He cleared his throat, sheepishly rubbing his hand along the back of his neck. “I thought you weren’t going to come.”

You sighed, taking in his tired expression before quietly admitting the truth. “I’ll always come.”

It was silent for a bit longer than was comfortable, but you were fine with it; you had nothing to say to him until he apologized to you, and if you had to stand here and stare at him until the game started, then so be it. But, right on cue, Shawn once again cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry for skipping dinner.” You nodded, prompting him to continue. “And for being an asshole about it. I’m just stressed as hell about my hitting.”

“I get it,” you replied, studying his face carefully. “Trust me, I do. But your being stressed isn’t an excuse to toss me aside until you get over it.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I’ve been obsessing over it, and I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this.”

“I just miss you.”

He took a step towards you, reaching out to grab your hands. “I miss you too, honey. Always.” You nodded, taking a heavy breath as you looked into the brown eyes you loved, which stared back at you apologetically. “I’m sorry. Really, I am.”

“Okay,” you conceded. It was impossible to be upset with him when he was giving you that face. “And, look, I don’t know what your hitting coaches have been telling you about this slump, but I had some ideas, and--”

“Hold on,” he smirked, cutting you off. “What happened to leaving it alone? ‘Letting it run its course,’ as I believe you put it?”

You huffed, and he chuckled. “We both know neither of us actually want that if this--” you gestured between the two of you-- “is what it’s going to turn into. So, your hitting. Have you tried anything new at all?”

He quirked his head to the side, his expression a mixture of amusement and perplexity. “What’re you getting at?”

“I don’t want to overstep, so--”

He interjected again, this time with a laugh. “Just tell me, honey. Now I’m intrigued.”

“Your batting stance,” you blurted, watching his face carefully. “Have you thought about switching it up?”

“Y/N, I can’t just change my swing.”

“I’m not asking you to change your swing, I’m asking you to change your stance. Just hear me out, please. I promise I’m not going to say something as crazy as you think I will.”

He was silent, thinking, before nodding for you to continue. You took a breath, planning your words carefully. “I started studying other players who’ve had slumps this season and something about Cody Bellinger specifically struck me.”

“You hate that guy,” Shawn laughed, and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“I hate his team, actually, but regardless; I think what he did to his batting stance might work for you.”

“Which was?” he prompted, completely tuned-in.

“His natural stance is tall, almost completely straight up. No bend in his knees. But I was watching clips from his last few at-bats, because he’s been hitting really well again, and his stance is different. He stands closer to the plate and he bends more, which creates a smaller strike-zone.”

“That’s baseball 101,” Shawn added, to which you nodded.

“Right, that’s nothing revolutionary. But by changing his stance a little bit, his swing changed minorly, too. He puts more weight on his back foot which gives more power to his swing. And it worked; his average is back up. Have you watched back any clips of your last few at-bats just to see how they look?”

“You know I don’t like doing that. Feels weird,” he mumbled, and you couldn’t help the smile that crossed your face. Always so humble.

“I figured you’d say that, which is why I talked to a friend in the media department so that I could start watching footage of you. And I think that if you were to get rid of some of the bend in your waist and bend your knees more instead, it might help. I noticed from the clips I was watching that you’ve been fouling the ball into the dirt a lot more than normal. And when you do make contact, it’s almost always a choppy grounder that ends up being an easy out.”

“So I’m consistently only hitting the top of the ball,” Shawn mused.

“Exactly. And I think that by making your stance a little tighter and lower to the plate, you’ll be getting all of the ball instead of just the top of it, which obviously increases your chances at hitting safely. I’m not promising it’ll work, but I think it’s a better solution than taking two-hundred practice pitches after you’ve just played an entire game. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, slowly, nodding his head as he began to process what you were saying. “So basically just straighten my torso but put more of a bend in my knees.”

“Exactly.”

“Thanks coach,” he teased, smirking. “I’ll start working on it after tonight.”

You felt your face fall a little. “Why not right now?”

“I’m not gonna have time to do more BP before the game today,” he shrugged. “I have to practice with a new stance before I try it in a game.”

“Says who?” you argued, not missing Shawn’s skeptical expression. “You’re a talented player, so trust yourself. Take advantage of your time on-deck; time your swings to the pitches and practice with the modified stance.”

He shrugged, looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t know, honey.”

“It’s up to you,” you began, a teasing glint in your eye. “But if it doesn’t work at least Vlad Jr. can pick up your slack.”

He laughed, and so did you. “Ouch.”

“There’s a new rookie in town.”

“Does this mean you’ll finally stop calling me Rookie?”

“Oh, of course not. Just makes it even more fun.”

He rolled his eyes, and right then you could hear the loudspeaker broadcasting that it was time for the ceremonial first pitch. Shawn pulled you into him by your waist and pressed a kiss to your lips--one that said thank you and I’m sorry and I love you all at once. You pulled away and smiled at him, smoothing your hands over the lettering on the front of his jersey

“Bend your knees more, and use the on-deck circle,” you reminded him, and he nodded and shot you the closed-mouth smile that still made your stomach flutter.

“You got it, coach.”

You laughed as he started for the locker room so that he could get to the field, his metal cleats echoing all the way there. You turned to leave as well, heading back down the corridor towards the offices. When you got to the clubhouse and claimed the seat Cassiday was saving you next to her, your PR team greeted you with the same warmth and happiness as always, reminding you just how lucky you were to be in your position.

“How did it go?” Cassidy asked amidst the pre-game chatter of your coworkers.

“We’re gonna find out,” you replied, heart beginning to race with anticipation as you turned your attention to the TV screen just in time for the Orioles’ first batter. The top half of the first inning was executed without a hitch, the Blue Jays getting three outs quickly. When it came time for the Jays to hit, your nerves really kicked in. You felt Cassidy lay a comforting hand on your arm, and you could only smile in thanks before refocusing on the game.

Thanks to a few easy hits from the batters at the top of the lineup, Shawn saw his first plate appearance of the game in the first inning. “Is it just me,” Curt began as Shawn stepped into the batters’ box, “or did Mendes change his stance?”

“It’s different,” you answered hastily, knee bouncing as you watched Shawn choppily swing and miss at the first pitch he saw. “He’s trying something new.”

“Hopefully it works,” Lynn chimed in from across the room. “Your boyfriend needs to hit.”

“Tell me about it,” you mumbled, as the second pitch came down in the dirt and was called a ball.

“Breathe,” Cassidy reminded you, and you let out a heavy exhale of breath you hadn’t noticed you’d been holding in.

Just when it seemed that all hope for the new batting stance was gone, Shawn stuck his bat out on a 3-2 count and managed to actually make contact. You instinctively leaped up from the couch, hands folded over your mouth as you silently willed the ball to hit the grass of the outfield before the Orioles’ center fielder could get to it and get Shawn out.

Your wish was granted when the ball hit the grass, Shawn safely reaching first as your coworkers cheered around you. It was about as pathetic as singles came, but it was still a hit. The camera cut to Shawn on first base, readjusting his batting gloves as he talked to the first base coach, an adorable, brilliant smile plastered on his face that surely matched your own. You could feel Cassidy squeezing your shoulders in excitement, but all you could do was focus on the boy on the television, still grinning as he took a two-step leadoff, focused on the pitcher. You already couldn’t wait to see him after the game.

Slump over.

Thank you for reading!! Feedback makes me very happy.

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purrincess-chat · 5 years ago

Text

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Original CH16

It’s here early!! A couple things: I asked a while ago rabbit or dog, and most of you voted rabbit, so this is the chapter where you reap what you have sewn. I will say, however, that I changed the rabbit quite a bit because I wasn’t a big fan of what canon did, and this fic is explicitly about giving canon the finger, so it’s only fitting. Anyway, hope you all enjoy!

Previous First Next

Chapter 16

Marinette and Adrien stared at his phone, jaws hanging agape as silence stretched on until Chloe sighed, and Marinette blinked out of her trance.

“I’m sorry. We’re going to what now?” She said, cocking her head to the side.

“Ugh, just get over here,” Chloe groaned before hanging up.

Marinette and Adrien exchanged bewildered looks, and at her cocked brow, he shrugged as if to say, ‘I have no idea what just happened either.’ Marinette nodded before they gathered their things and piled back into Adrien’s town car to head to the hotel. On the drive over, Adrien laced his fingers through hers once more, and she smiled up at him as this thumb traced the back of her palm, a fluttery feeling spreading through her chest.

She’d waited for this moment for so long, and now they were finally together. Adrien had fallen in love with her after all, and to her surprise, she was relatively calm about it. She wasn’t planning their wedding or naming their future pets, but she felt an overwhelming warmth in her chest that spread to her cheeks. Perhaps it was because she and Adrien knew each other better now, and she’d grown to be more comfortable around him. He was a true friend, and someone she could lean on through all of this mess, a stable rock in the middle of a storm, providing her with support whenever she needed it, and that was worth the world to her.

When they arrived at the hotel, Adrien, sensing her nerves, never let go the whole way up to Chloe’s suite. Chloe was staring out at her balcony when they arrived, a pensive frown wrinkling her forehead, and she turned to them, pursing her lips to mask her expression as they approached. They eyed each other in tense silence until Marinette spoke up.

“So,” she started, cocking a brow, “what?”

Chloe rolled her eyes and rubbed her temple with a sigh.

“Look, don’t go getting any ideas that I’m doing this for you. This isn’t about you; it’s about revenge,” Chloe said awkwardly. “Lila seems to feel the most threatened by you, so I think it will have more of an impact if your name is associated with all of this charity work you want to do, and the only way to make anyone else care enough to report about it is to make you someone worth talking about.”

“What makes you think Lila is threatened by me?” Marinette said, rubbing her arm. “All she ever does is toy with me.”

“And why do you think that is?” Chloe rolled her eyes when Marinette still seemed lost. “When someone like her feels threatened, they lash out and try to bring you down.”

“Is that why you were always so mean to me?” Marinette’s eyes narrowed, a smirk curling on her lips, and Chloe scoffed.

“Don’t lump me in with her! I’m mean to people for the sheer entertainment of watching them suffer. Totally different,” Chloe waved it away.

“Okay, so how exactly do you plan on making Marinette famous?” Adrien asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“Easily,” Chloe said with a shrug. “The dumb brat has already started making a name for herself, and more and more important people are starting to notice her talent, if you want to call it that.”

“I will ignore the insult in favor of the compliment,” Marinette crossed her arms over her chest and cocked a hip.

“Look, even my mom has complimented your work, so I think we should – as disgusting as this is – ask my mom to help you launch your fashion career.” Chloe cringed as she said it.

Marinette stared at her for a long moment before shifting her weight.

“You’re being serious right now?” Marinette’s eyebrows raised.

“I know. Even I’m shocked.” Chloe wrinkled her nose.

“You want to help me start my fashion career? Now?”

“It’s the only way to take down that brat for good,” Chloe said, placing her hands on her hips.

“This is uncharacteristically nice of you, Chloe,” Adrien said with a smile that brought a flush to her cheeks. “I’m proud of you.”

“I still hate you, and don’t ever expect me to be caught dead wearing your trash, but my mom wanted to train you, so I think it’s our best shot.” Chloe turned away stubbornly.

“So, what? We’re just going to walk up to your mom and ask her to work with me?” Marinette scoffed.

“Pretty much,” Chloe said, marching past her.

“Wait, we’re going right now?” Marinette flinched, turning over her shoulder.

“We want to take her down this century, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe said pointedly, crossing the hall to her mother’s suite.

“But…wait, Chloe-” she rushed after her as she barged into the room across the hall.

Audrey was in the midst of a hot stone massage, and Marinette curled her shoulders.

“Should we disturb her-”

“Mommy,” Chloe said, and Audrey gave some groan of acknowledgement. “You remember my dreadful former classmate, the one who designed the feather hat for Adrien?”

“Vaguely,” Audrey said.

“Well, Clara Nightingale walked the red carpet in one of her designs, and I think you should back her brand,” Chloe suggested.

“I thought you hated this girl-”

“You and me both,” Marinette grumbled.

“-now it sounds like you’re being nice,” Audrey choked on the word.

“There’s a nasty girl at school that I want to get rid of, and I need to make Dupain-Cheng famous to do it,” Chloe explained, and Audrey moaned as the masseuse worked a knot in her shoulders.

“Get me a portfolio by the end of the month, then we’ll talk,” she said, and Chloe clapped her hands together.

“Thank you, Mommy,” she cooed.

“Wait, I’m sorry, by the end of the month?” Marinette tilted her head to the side.

“Fashion moves quickly, dear, so if you want to be relevant, you’ll get me your portfolio with a pitch before the end of the month,” Audrey said more sternly, and Marinette blanched.

“She’ll have it ready,” Adrien promised, and Marinette shot him a look.

“I’m not so sure she can-”

“Enjoy your massage,” Chloe grabbed Marinette’s arm and dragged her from the room.

“Chloe, I don’t know if I can-”

"Oh, shut it," Chloe clamped her hand in a mouth-shutting motion. "You are annoyingly persistent when you want to be. I've seen you accomplish way more in less time, so don't you even say you can't do it because if anyone has got what it takes, it's you, and if you tell anyone I said that, I will destroy everything you love."

“The end of the month? That only gives me a week to come up with an entire line,” Marinette said pointedly. “Not to mention it has to impress your mom – the queen of fashion!”

“And?” Chloe quirked a brow, and Marinette gave her a bewildered look.

“Chloe’s right, Marinette, you can do this,” Adrien took her hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

“But what if I can’t?” Marinette lowered her gaze.

“Then your fashion career is dead, and I’ll just get rid of Lila my way,” Chloe shrugged before sauntering back into her suite. “Toodles!”

Marinette leaned her face into Adrien’s shoulder with a moan, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly.

“I know this is a lot of pressure, but you are the most amazing girl I know. You’re an incredible designer, and I know you’re going to knock it out,” he said, pulling back to press his forehead to hers, those green eyes baring into hers with a confidence she wished she felt. She took a deep, centering breath and nodded.

“Okay,” she said, pressing her lips into a firm line. “Let’s do it.”

***

Lila glared down at her phone screen, her laptop playing Clara’s acceptance speech in the background which only made her blood boil hotter. Marinette pulled a couple fast ones on her, but it was the last time she’d get the best of her. She stared down at Adrien’s post again with a scowl.

“So proud of @marinette-dc! I’m so lucky to have fallen for someone as amazing as you.”

Adrien would regret crossing her like this. They both would.

***

The next day at school, Marinette was quite the hot topic after her big debut. Everyone was buzzing about Clara’s dress, and she received compliments left and right, though she found it hard to enjoy her moment with Audrey’s deadline looming over her.

She’d spent all night brainstorming ideas, but so far she had nothing. Nada. Zilch. No ideas. No inspiration. Nothing, and she was a sweaty ball of nerves. Numerous times she’d tried to give herself pep talks. She saved the city on a daily basis, fought ten-ton monsters and tricky magicians. How hard could it be to design a few dresses and coats?

Infinitely hard, as it turned out. In fact, part of her wished it was as easy as fighting an akuma. That there was some clever shortcut to her end goal, but there were no such things in this case. Just her own imagination and the wall between it and her sketchpad.

“Why so glum?” Macy asked as Marinette shoved books into her locker. “Shouldn’t you be excited about your dress? Everyone loves it.”

“I am, but I just…Another amazing opportunity has fallen in my lap, and I don’t think I can do it, and I’m stressing out over it,” she explained with a sigh.

“Yeah, you are breaking out a little,” Lisette pointed out, and Marinette covered her chin with a groan.

“You’re amazing, Marinette, and you always find a solution,” Macy said, but when Marinette seemed less than convinced, she pursed her lips. “Tell you what, Lisette can help you cover your zit, and we’ll help you get your mojo back, okay?”

“Okay,” Marinette said as Macy took her hand and led her to the bathroom where Lisette somehow managed to completely erase any signs of her stress. Honestly, she was a wizard with a tube of concealer.

“There they are with the lady of the hour,” Eliott said when they met up for lunch.

Macy linked her arm through Martin’s and planted a kiss on his cheek. When Marinette eyed them, Martin’s cheeks flushed, and Macy perked up.

“Oh yeah, we never got a chance to tell you with everything that happened yesterday,” she gasped. “After the akuma, we were all looking for you, and Martin and I bumped into each other.”

- - -

“Macy!” Martin’s eyebrows raised before a flush came over his cheeks. “Are you okay? The akuma didn’t hurt you, did it?”

Macy eyed him for a long moment before grabbing his collar and yanking him down to meet her lips.

- - -

“And now we’re together,” Macy said with a cheery grin.

“Aww, good for you two,” Marinette giggled, and Eliott shot her a knowing smirk.

“I seem to recall another telling post about you and a certain model.” He waggled his eyebrows, and Marinette bit her lip.

“He gave me this necklace.” She pulled it from under her collar with a soft smile.

“How romantic!” Lisette said.

“How sparkly,” Macy added with a longing look until Eliott nudged her with his elbow.

“We should all double date this weekend,” Eliott suggested, and Macy shot up.

“We can go golfing! My parents are part-owners at one of the courses so that my dad can play whenever he wants,” she said, bouncing excitedly.

“I’ve never played golf.” Marinette curled her shoulders. “Besides, I have a lot to do.”

“Oh, come on, Marinette. We can teach you,” Martin said, and they all gave her pleading looks.

“I-” Marinette hesitated. “We’ll see.”

“What’s so urgent that you can’t come out, Marinette?” Lisette asked as they took their seats.

“Does it have to do with that girl?” Eliott lowered his voice.

“Kind of…” Marinette took a deep breath before explaining the entire situation – the plan, her deadline, all of it.

“Whoa, you’re really gonna pitch to Audrey Bourgeois?” Macy whispered, eyes wide.

“I’m gonna try,” Marinette pushed her peas around with a spoon. “I’m kinda running on empty right now.”

“If you need any help let us know, okay?” Macy reached out to place a hand over hers.

“Yeah, we know tons about fashion and starting charities,” Eliott echoed. “We’ve got your back.”

“Thanks, guys.”

***

“How could he do this to me!” Lila sobbed loudly in the locker room. “I thought we were going to be together then he left me for her!”

Several of the girls surrounded her, offering tissues and patting her sympathetically. It was almost too easy to get them all eating out of the palm of her hand. She’d like to see Adrien squirm his way out of this one.

“It’s really unlike Adrien to do something like this,” Rose said, pursing her lips.

“Yeah, there must be some explanation,” Mylene echoed.

“It’s not his fault,” Lila sniffled. “Marinette has never liked me. She even had her friends make up all those stories to make me look bad, and now she’s stolen Adrien right out from under me! I just don’t understand what I did to make her hate me.”

“Well, she was always kinda possessive of Adrien,” Alix said, rubbing the back of her neck as the locker room doors opened.

“Well, well, well, the two-timer himself. What do you have to say for yourself?” Alya folded her arms over her chest, and the girls rallied around Lila who shot Adrien a devious smirk.

“It’s fine, girls,” she said with a whimper. “I just don’t understand, Adrien. Yesterday we kissed at the museum, and then you said online that you’re with Marinette…I just want the truth.”

“You want the truth?” Adrien cocked a brow. “Fine. We didn’t kiss at the museum - you latched onto me without my permission. I never told you that I liked you, in fact, we barely ever see each other. I don’t know what you thought we were, but I’m in love with Marinette, not you. Sorry.”

Lila’s face hardened, but Adrien held her gaze steady.

“Was that enough truth for you?” He asked as the bell rang, and the girls all glanced at Lila.

“Well, I certainly hope you two are happy,” she said, but Adrien wasn’t fazed.

“We are. Thank you. I hope one day you find happiness too. Real happiness.”

At that they all dispersed, and Adrien held Lila’s glare as everyone made their way out the door. She stopped beside him, turning to whisper in his ear.

“You’ve just made a big mistake,” she murmured.

“No.” Adrien shook his head. “You did when you chose to lie to everyone, and I’m not sorry for what you’ve got coming.”

Lila grunted before stalking off to class, and Adrien let out a breath. His heart was pounding, but he felt exhilarated. Was this what it felt like to stand his ground? It was terrifying, yet immensely satisfying, and he knew now that their plan would work. Lila’s glory days were numbered, and they were going to set everyone free.

Most of their other classmates were supportive and even congratulated him, although Alya refused to look at him, and he was actually on top of his game for the next several days. Even Kagami couldn’t keep up during fencing, and part of him wondered why he hadn’t done this ages ago.

“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Dupain-Cheng,” he greeted that Saturday when he finally convinced Nathalie to clear his schedule so he could help Marinette with her designs. “How is Marinette?”

“She hasn’t come out of her room all day,” Sabine winced, and Adrien sighed.

“I’ll go up and see her,” he offered.

“Here, she hasn’t had breakfast,” Tom said, tossing some croissants onto a plate.

“Thanks, Mr. Dupain,” Adrien nodded, accepting the plate and pacing out the back door and up the stairs.

When he made it to Marinette’s room, he found her face down in her sketchbook with a defeated slump to her shoulders. Crumpled paper littered the desk and floor, several patterns and magazines covering nearly every surface, though he did take pride in seeing the photo of the two of them as her desktop background.

“How goes designing?” He dared to ask, and she slowly turned her head, revealing puffy, blood-shot eyes and mascara-streaked cheeks.

“Great, except I have no talent and my life is over,” she said before burying her face again.

Adrien let out a breathy laugh, setting the plate and cup of coffee he’d picked up from the café next door amidst the mess and taking a seat beside her.

“C’mon, you and I both know that’s not true,” he said, rubbing her back. “You’re just in a rut right now, but you’ll get out of it.”

Marinette sat up with a sniffle and wiped at her cheek, noticing the things he’d brought up.

“Is that coffee?” She quirked a brow, reaching for it and immediately taking a sip with a satisfied moan.

“Of course because I’m the best boyfriend in the world,” he beamed, and a small smile broke over her lips. “Sorry I couldn’t visit sooner.”

“It’s okay. I know you’re busy. Besides, I’ve been so focused on designing the past few days I don’t think I would have had the brain capacity to do anything else,” she said, taking a croissant as Adrien nudged them toward her. “I feel like such a failure.”

“Your deadline is still a few days away. Don’t give up yet,” Adrien encouraged.

“It’s three days away, and I have nothing,” she leaned against her fist with a moan. “This is my big chance, and I’m gonna blow it!”

Adrien pursed his lips in contemplation before standing up and patting her shoulder.

“I think what you need is a little fresh air, so let’s go out for a while. Everyone is going to play golf, so maybe some exercise will get some blood pumping to your head,” he said, taking her hands and pulling her to her feet. “Get cleaned up.”

“Adrien, I dunno-”

“No excuses, come on.” He gave her a look, and when she threw her head back in exasperation, he switched gears. “You and I haven’t been out on a date yet because of everything, and I really want to spend time with you. Please?”

Marinette held his pleading gaze for a moment before letting out a relenting sigh, and a grin stretched across Adrien’s lips.

“You’re going to get me into all kinds of trouble with that face of yours,” she teased as he pulled her in.

“After golf we’ll go to your secret garden, just you and me and see if we can’t find you a muse,” he said softly, touching his nose to hers. “But you’ve been at this for days. You need a break.”

“I guess,” she mumbled, and Adrien pinched her side teasingly before leaning in closer.

Her eyelids hooded as he tilted his head, lips brushing tauntingly just before the door slammed downstairs, and Macy’s voice called out. Adrien sighed, holding her face in his hands longingly before planting a soft kiss on her nose and pulling away as footsteps pounded up the stairs.

“Marinette- oh!” Macy surveyed her disheveled appearance with a wince. “It’s worse than I thought, but have no fear. We’ve come to help.”

Lisette poked her head through the door before climbing up with a big makeup bag as Macy shooed Adrien out of the room.

“You can wait down in the living room with the other boyfriends while we work,” she said, sweetly, and Adrien shot Marinette a longing look before disappearing down the stairs.

Macy and Lisette cleaned her up in no time, and she started to feel a little better now that her hair was brushed. Lisette covered her dark circles and blemishes, and Macy presented her with a custom golf outfit. After everything she’d been through lately, it was nice to have friends looking out for her.

“As your best friends, we order you to take a break from designing and come have fun with us,” Macy declared, and Marinette shot a glance at her pile of ideas. “They’ll be there when you get back.”

“Okay,” Marinette caved, and Macy clapped excitedly.

The boys were playing Ultimate Mecha Strike when they came down, and Adrien locked eyes with Marinette instantly, a smile curling on his lips. Marinette felt her cheeks warm, and she averted her gaze as they stood up to join them.

“She lives,” Eliott remarked with a teasing grin, holding out his arms, and Marinette bit back a smirk.

“If by lives you mean she’s riddled with anxiety then yes,” she said, and Eliott ruffled her hair, though Macy quickly slapped his hand away, scolding him for ruining her work.

“You look cute in that outfit,” Adrien complimented as they headed downstairs, and Marinette tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear with a giggle.

“Would you kids like some treats for the road?” Tom offered a box of macarons with a grin, and Eliott and Martin perked up.

“No thank you. I’m on a diet,” Macy declined when they were passed to her. “Are we ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Eliott said, eyeing her as Lisette picked two more cookies from the box before they crowded outside to the limo.

“Have fun!” Sabine called.

Marinette winced a little against the sunlight, having been cooped up in her room since she got home from school yesterday, and she was soon directed into the back of a silver limo. Adrien sat beside her, slipping his fingers into hers the moment they settled and lifting her hand to kiss the back of her palm. Biting back a smile, she leaned her head against his shoulder as he trailed his thumb over her knuckles, lost in her own bliss for the duration of the ride.

Although her mind occasionally wandered back to her deadline, she forced herself to take deep breaths when her nerves crept back in, and each time she squeezed Adrien’s hand a little tighter, he pressed gentle kisses to her hair, her temple, her hand, always patient, always supportive. Part of her still couldn’t believe they were together, and her heart skipped each time she imagined what it would be like to finally kiss him for real. She supposed she’d know soon enough.

The golf course was huge, and all of the staff knew Macy by name when they pulled up. Marinette felt a little awkward as they offered her water and fruit left and right as they headed up the sidewalk to the waiting golf carts, but her friends barely seemed to bat an eye, including Adrien who graciously accepted a bottle of water.

She tried to comfort herself a little seeing as if Chloe’s plan worked, this would likely be her life soon enough, but part of her felt really bad for the people following after socialites with dark umbrellas to shield them from the sun. In a way, it felt like she was on a different planet.

“How many holes would you like today, mademoiselle?” A man in a suit coat asked as several other men loaded club bags onto their carts.

“We’ve got a greenie with us today,” she said, casting Marinette a smile. “So let’s make it a half-course day.”

“Very well.” He nodded. “Best of luck.”

“Thank you, Javier,” Macy giggled, skipping over to her cart.

Marinette glanced around in awe much to Adrien's amusement. He chuckled as her head whipped around on the ride to the first hole, taking in all of the workers diligently tending to the lawn.

"Don't laugh," she scolded, which only made him laugh harder. "Hey! I'm not used to being waited on hand and foot. This is all new to me."

"I'm not making fun of you. It's really cute watching you. Sometimes I get overwhelmed by it all too, so I know what you're feeling," he said. "I'm not anyone special, and I hate taking advantage of others, but this is their job."

"I guess," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I'm just used to doing everything myself."

"It's overwhelming at times especially when they do things like tie your shoes or open your drink," he admitted with a wince, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's okay to tell them no if you want, but sometimes I find doing that makes me feel worse, so I've learned to accept it."

"It's hard to believe people live like this," she remarked, eyeing a group of well-dressed players as they drove passed.

"It's different when it's all you've ever known," Adrien said, lowering his gaze to his lap before smiling back up at her. "Your humility is cute which is why I know you're going to change the world when our plan succeeds."

"You mean if our plan succeeds," she corrected, but he gave her a look as they reached the first course.

"Marinette, you go last so you can watch all of us. We'll teach you everything you need to know," Macy said with a cheery grin, and Marinette listened intently to all of their advice, though when it was her turn, she still had no idea what she was doing.

She stared at the ball as Macy and Eliott called out pointers, but it felt like they were speaking another language. Gentle arms wrapped around her waist, and she felt another body pressing into her.

"I'll help you," Adrien said in her ear, placing his hands over hers. "Spread your feet apart and make sure the club head is straight, like this."

He turned the club slightly and adjusted her hands, being far more intimate than necessary, not that she was complaining. They were on a date after all, albeit a group one.

"Now, lean forward so your arms hang down and center your weight," he ran a hand up her back and gently pushed her forward. "To set up your back swing, be sure to rotate your shoulders and hips and follow through with the club then shift your weight slightly to the left and swing along the same curve."

Adrien placed his hands on her hips and shoulders, guiding her through the motion before moving around to the front, trailing his finger purposefully along her jaw with a smirk. Taking a few steps back, he motioned to the ball, and Marinette blinked a few times to clear the haze. She swallowed hard, her back and sides still tingling from his touch and followed his advice. She startled a little at the sound of soft claps over her shoulder as she watched the ball soar across the green.

"Very nice advice, Adrien," Macy complimented, "but get a room next time, you two."

Adrien and Marinette's cheeks flushed as they turned back to the carts to move to their balls. He extended a hand to her with a smile which she took as they followed behind.

As it turned out, she was pretty lousy at golf, but she didn’t care. They talked and laughed, poking fun at each other and enjoying the day. It was time spent with people she cared about and who in return cared about her, and just for a little while, she let go of her stress, her anxiety, her fear. These were her real friends, and she knew that even if she missed her deadline, they’d always have her back.

“Well, Marinette, I think you can rule out professional golfing as a career option,” Eliott said with a laugh, turning the score card around. “You never scored lower than a double bogey.”

“That’s bad, right?” She tilted her head to the side.

“It’s horrible,” Adrien affirmed, pinching her sides. “You looked so cute though.”

“Looks like we’ll just have to come play more often to catch you up,” Macy said with a smirk. “Now come on. They’re setting up a picnic over at the pavilion for us.”

“Great, I’m starving,” Lisette moaned, and Marinette noticed Eliott eyeing Macy with a frown.

When they made it to the pavilion, Macy broke away from Martin’s arm and gestured to the clubhouse.

“I’m gonna go run and see my dad really quick. The grass on hole 5 is looking a little high, so I’m going to tell him to have the lawn crew take care of it,” she said, taking a few steps back. “Don’t wait for me. Dig in!”

Eliott watched her go with a sigh as they all settled in at the table.

“What’s wrong?” Marinette asked, and he flicked his gaze to her, pursing his lips.

“She’s doing it again.” Eliott shook his head.

“Doing what again?” Adrien’s eyebrows furrowed, and Lisette winced.

“Dieting,” she said, holding up air quotes.

“Macy has always struggled with her appearance,” Eliott started, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She gets an idea in her head that something about her is unattractive, so she tries to fix it. In the past it’s been her hair or her teeth or her complexion, but ever since a guy she liked rejected her for being ‘too fat’ last year she’s become obsessed with her weight.”

“That’s awful!” Marinette said, cupping a hand over her mouth.

“She goes on these ‘diets’ every few months, but in reality she’s just skipping meals,” Eliott continued. “She hides at mealtime or spends most of it talking so you don’t notice how little she’s eating.”

“She just pushed her food around when she had dinner with me this week,” Martin confirmed. “I thought she just didn’t like it, but she just insisted she wasn’t that hungry.”

“I’ve tried to talk to her about it, but she insists she’s fine and that her chef blends shakes for her every morning with all of her necessary vitamins and minerals, but that’s not the point,” Eliott sighed. “I want to help her learn to love herself the way she is.”

“I’m gonna go find her,” Marinette said, standing up.

“Try the bathroom,” Eliott suggested as Marinette rushed off, and Adrien watched her go with a longing smile.

“Looks like both of our dates have run off,” he remarked to Martin.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to throw a wrench in your date,” Eliott said, rubbing the back of his head.

“It’s okay.” Adrien shrugged. “She’ll always jump at the opportunity to help. It’s why I love her so much.”

“Macy?” Marinette called, peeking her head into the bathroom and spotting her friend sitting in the chair across the room. She sniffled and rubbed at her eye as Marinette entered, throwing on a smile.

“Oh, Marinette, I was just-”

“Eliott told us.” Her face fell at that, and she shifted her gaze to her lap.

“I’m just trying to lose 2 kilos,” she insisted, and Marinette sat beside her.

“Macy, you don’t need to lose weight,” she said, placing a hand on Macy’s shoulder, but Macy rolled her eyes.

“Easy for you to say. You’re so small and cute,” she grunted.

“And you’re tall and curvy and beautiful and in really good shape,” Marinette shot back, and Macy pursed her lips.

“I do a lot of cardio.” She shrugged, biting her lip. “I just wish I looked like you. Boys like small and cute.”

“Depends on the boy,” Marinette said, nudging her. “Martin really likes you the way you are.”

“I know, but…”

“But what?”

“I’m afraid that he’s going to find someone thinner and prettier and forget all about me,” she said, covering her face. “Boys don’t like fat girls.”

“That’s not true,” Marinette prompted, but Macy averted her gaze. “Macy-”

A loud boom shook the building, and the girls clung to each other with shrieks. The lights flicked above their head, and Marinette’s jaw clenched.

“That wasn’t a normal blast,” she said. “Someone must have been akumatized.”

“Oh, I should go find Martin,” Macy gasped, jumping up.

“You go on ahead; I’ll go make sure everyone gets to safety,” Marinette said, gesturing in the opposite direction, though as soon as Macy rounded the corner, she stepped back into the bathroom to transform.

Chat Noir was already on the scene when she arrived, and this akuma was a doozy. Apparently, Macy’s father had gotten upset with his opponent for cheating during their game, and now sought revenge with his golf ball grenades.

“Someone has quite the explosive temper,” Chat said as they dodged back.

“We’re gonna need a little luck to beat this one. Lucky Charm!” She eyed the folding fan in her hands contemplatively. “A little luck and an ally. I’ve gotta go to Master Fu!”

“Make it quick or cat sashimi is gonna show up on the next menu.” Her partner cupped his hand to his throat and stuck out his tongue as she shot off.

“Master Fu, I need a Miraculous!” Marinette burst through the door to his apartment.

“Do you have someone in mind?” Master Fu smiled, retrieving the box from the phonograph.

“Um,” she hummed, pursing her lips and surveying her options.

She could pick Martin or Eliott again, but she wasn’t sure she needed the turtle or the fox. There was Chloe, but she was too far away, and her power needed to get close which wasn’t an option. She needed something with range…

“Can I use this one?” She lifted the rabbit’s crescent shaped pin from its compartment.

“If it is the one you need,” he said with a nod.

“Thank you, Master. I’ll bring it back!” She dropped it into her purse and darted off.

When Ladybug made it back, she swung in just in time to catch her kitty as he was launched into the air. He shot her a grateful look as they landed then glanced around.

“Weren’t you supposed to bring back help?” He cocked a brow, and she held out the hair pin with a wince.

“I have a Miraculous now I just need to find a user,” she explained, and Chat brandished his staff.

“You work on that. I’ll deal with him,” he said, spinning his staff to deflect another ball.

“Daddy!”

Ladybug and Chat Noir paused as Macy climbed atop a picnic table and placed her hands on her hips. Martin and Eliott looked on from the entrance to the clubhouse worriedly.

“That’s enough! This is insane,” she called, and her father glanced her way with a scowl.

“No one cheats on my course! This doesn’t concern you, now go inside before you get hurt,” Golfer ordered, but Macy stood her ground.

Chat tackled Golfer while he was distracted, sending several balls flying, and Macy watched as one bounced off a chair, ricocheting toward her. She closed her eyes, but strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her off just in time. When she opened them again, she saw the ground flying past her and glanced up to see Ladybug’s dark hair.

“That was very brave of you, but also incredibly reckless,” Ladybug chided gently when they landed on the roof.

“That’s my dad,” Macy said with pleading eyes. “Please help him.”

Ladybug eyed her for a long moment before a smile curled on her lips. If there was any way to boost Macy’s confidence…

“Tell you what, why don’t you help for real?” She said, retrieving the box and holding it out to her. “Macy Chanteur, this is the Miraculous of the rabbit which grants the power of teleportation. You will use it for the greater good and return it to me at the end of the mission.”

“Wait, is this for real?” Macy gasped, cupping her cheeks. “You want to make me a hero?”

“Why not? You’ve shown that you’re brave,” Ladybug said.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’m good enough,” Macy lowered her gaze, and Ladybug placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Let me tell you a secret. Anyone can be a hero by choosing to stand up for what’s right, and you’ve done just that,” Ladybug said, placing the box in her hands. “I’m not making you a hero. You already are one. I’m just giving you superpowers.”

Macy turned the box over in her hands before pressing her lips together with a nod. Lifting the lid, she winced against the light, eyebrows raising as her kwami materialized.

“Hello there, new friend,” Fluff giggled, floating around her.

“Whoa, does every Miraculous come with a cute pet?” Macy poked at her giddily.

“I’m not a pet; I’m a kwami. I grant you magical powers. All you have to do is say ‘Fluff, transform me!’”

“Okay. Fluff, transform me!”

Macy glanced down at her costume with wide eyes, a smile stretching across her lips, and Ladybug took her wrist.

“Come on. Let’s go save your dad.”

Chat Noir flew through the air after a blast from a golf ball, landing at their feet as they touched down again. He blinked up at them with a groan.

“Hey, you found someone. Great,” he coughed as Ladybug offered him a hand.

“Ladybug!” Martin and Eliott called.

“It’s not safe here. You two need to leave,” she ordered.

“Not without Macy,” Martin said, and Bunny smiled.

“Macy is safe and sound, and more than anything she wants you two safe as well, kay?” She blew them a kiss before following Chat and Ladybug into the action.

Bunny swung her mallet just in time to deflect a golf bomb before it exploded, and Golfer’s eyes narrowed.

“A bit lowbrow fighting a golfer with croquet, Ladybug. Can’t you afford more than a cheap knock-off sport?” He grunted, and Bunny cocked a hip.

“If I’m more skilled than you are with a mallet then what does that say about your golf game?” She quirked a brow, and Golfer let out a growl before hurdling several more balls in their direction.

“We can’t get close to him,” Chat said as they dodged, and Ladybug pursed her lips.

Landing on a table, she summoned her Lucky Charm, eyebrows furrowing as a tennis racket landed in her hands. She turned it over as Golfer’s mocking laughter echoed across the field.

“You really should learn your sports, Ladybug,” he chortled as she glanced around, singling in on his golf balls, Bunny, Chat Noir, and the racket.

“Maybe it’s you who needs to get a little more creative,” she shot back. “Bunny, Chat Noir, follow my lead!”

Ladybug charged forward again, her partners following suit, and Golfer rolled his eyes before swinging another hoard of balls. Chat and Bunny deflected several, and Ladybug lobbed one back at Golfer with her racket. He watched it bounce toward him with wide eyes before it detonated, sending him flying. Ladybug eyed his club as it twirled into the air.

“You’re up, Bunny!”

“Burrow!” Bunny called, spinning her mallet, and a blue portal opened beneath the club as it fell, transporting it into Chat Noir’s waiting Cataclysm.

“No!” Golfer shouted as it dissolved into dust, revealing a small black butterfly.

“No more evildoing for you, little akuma.”

Bunny paced over to help her father up as he blinked in confusion.

“What happened?” He groaned, rubbing his head.

“You were akumatized because your opponent cheated to win,” she explained. “If you ask me, I would just ban him from the course since you’re a part-owner.”

“That is true,” he said, cupping his chin. “I shouldn’t have gotten so work up when I decide who golfs here.”

“It happens to the best of us,” Ladybug assured him as she and Chat approached.

“Thank you, Ladybug, Chat Noir, and Bunny,” he said before Eliott and Martin ran up with his wife.

“Mr. Chanteur!”

“Eliott! Where is Macy?”

Bunny and Ladybug exchanged grins before the trio bumped fists.

“Pound it!”

***

“Macy!” Eliott and Martin raced up to her as she exited the clubhouse, Lisette, Marinette, and Adrien in tow.

“Are you alright?” Eliott asked.

“Yeah, Ladybug helped me get to safety,” she said, waving it away.

“I’m glad.” Martin pulled her in for a long hug, and she leaned her head against his with a smile.

“Well, the staff is setting up our lunch again,” Eliott said, gesturing over his shoulder.

“Good because I’m really about to starve now,” Lisette moaned, but Macy took a step back.

“I’m gonna go check on my dad. I’ll meet up with you guys,” she said before quickly pacing off, and Eliott sighed.

“She’ll get there,” Lisette said, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him back, though he cast a frown over his shoulder in the direction Macy went.

Eliott wasn’t the only one bothered by Macy’s mealtime avoidance, and several hours later, Marinette sat on the steps of the Trocadero, eyes trained ahead as she picked at the corner of her sketchbook. Even after becoming a hero, Macy still lacked confidence in herself, and Marinette’s mind churned with worry.

Adrien noticed her frown as she approached with ice cream and sat beside her.

“Still blocked?” He asked, offering her a spoonful, and she accepted it with a sigh, flicking her gaze to the pile of crumbled sheets beside her.

“I’m just not getting anything,” she said, leaning against her fist. “I can’t stop thinking about Macy.”

“Did you talk to her?” Adrien asked, popping a small spoon into his mouth.

“Yeah, but it didn’t help,” she sighed, glancing down at her blank page.

Adrien eyed her as she stuffed ice cream into her mouth with a defeated pout before wrapping an arm around her.

“You’ll think of something. I promise,” he said softly, and she took a deep breath before picking up her pencil again.

“I want to design something for Macy. Even if I don’t make the deadline, I could still give it to her as a gift,” she said, tilting her head in thought.

“I think she’d like that, and who knows, maybe it will get your creative juices flowing,” Adrien urged, and she pursed her lips, pencil hovering over the page briefly before she set to work.

Adrien watched as she scribbled away, finishing off the ice cream and watching people pass. After a while, Marinette held up her sketchbook with a smile, and Adrien leaned over to rest his chin on her shoulder.

“That looks great,” he complimented. “Macy will love it.”

Marinette lowered the book to her lap contently, glancing up at the woman walking past with her dog and feeling her heart jolt. In an instant, she pictured a flowing gown to accentuate her hips, and a colorful suit for the man carrying a bag of bread. The world around her blossomed, every shadow, every person, every print, every color filled her mind with ideas.

Up until now, she hadn’t known what she wanted her brand to represent. She had no direction, no inspiration, but in one moment, she realized that she didn’t want her designs to be worn by models but by ordinary people like Macy. Everyone deserved to feel beautiful, and maybe then people would learn to love themselves.

“Marinette?” She blinked, turning to Adrien who cocked a brow.

“I have to go home,” she said, closing her sketchbook and stuffing it into her bag.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and leaning to kiss his cheek. “I have a lot of designs to make.”

“You find your muse?” He asked as she stood up.

“I found my muse!” She called over her shoulder as she trotted down the stairs. “See you later! Oh, and thanks for the ice cream!”

Adrien watched her go, leaning back on his hands with a smile. So much for their date, but he had faith that she would come up with something amazing. If he believed in anyone, he believed in her.

***

“Ugh, let me tell you about the horrible shoes my masseuse was wearing the other day. I could barely relax staring down at them,” Audrey rambled at dinner two nights later.

Adrien tuned her out, skewering a piece of broccoli with his fork as she prattled on. Chloe seemed distracted beside him as well, not engrossed in her mother’s tale like she normally would which surprised him. His father had even joined them, so Chloe’s lack of showboating was odd.

“I’m curious to know, Audrey, what were your impressions of the awards show,” Gabriel asked, and Audrey lowered her wine glass with a groan.

“Dreadful! Utterly dreadful. Those designers should be ashamed of themselves,” she said. “Although, that funny little girl who won your contest made a piece for Miss Nightingale that was promising.”

“Yes, I took notice of it too,” Gabriel nodded. “Her style is very unique, but I felt it fit Clara’s personality nicely.”

“I can’t believe you’re letting her date your son,” Audrey said, flicking her gaze over to Adrien who straightened a little. “She’s a bit, how shall we say, financially challenged.”

“She surrounds herself with notable company, and talent like hers won’t stay underground for long. Clara’s gown is proof of that,” Gabriel replied simply, and Audrey pursed her lips.

“Speaking of, she owes me a portfolio,” Audrey tapped her chin. “I do not like to be kept waiting.”

Chloe and Adrien’s shoulders curled, and they exchanged nervous glances.

Jean approached the table, clasping his hands behind his back, and Audrey cocked an impatient brow.

“It would appear that Mme. Bourgeois has a visitor,” he reported, and Audrey’s eyes narrowed.

“Who dares interrupt my dinner?” She scoffed, setting her glass down a little too forcefully.

“A Mlle. Dupain-Cheng.” Adrien and Chloe perked up.

“Ugh, it’s about time. Send her in,” Audrey gave a permitting wave, and Jean retreated to fetch her.

“Is now a bad time?” Marinette winced as she approached.

“Time is money, darling, and you are wasting mine,” Audrey said. “Hurry up.”

“Right.” Marinette set down her easel and fumbled with her sketchpad, prompting an eyeroll from Audrey. “Um, so I’ve been thinking a lot about the message I want to send with my brand, and I’ve decided that I don’t want to be another designer pushing one standard of beauty.”

Audrey yawned, and Marinette shot Adrien a panicked look. He nodded her on, and she took a deep breath.

“I want to redefine what it means to be beautiful to include more types of people. I believe that everyone deserves to feel beautiful no matter what they look like,” she said, and Audrey blinked in boredom. “I want to design things that everyone can wear. Things that will make everyone feel beautiful so they don’t have to try to fit into a single mold.”

“A body-positive line?” Audrey quirked a brow.

“Yes.” Marinette nodded with a gulp.

“Too risky.” Audrey waved it away, picking up her glass. “The industry will eat you alive.”

“It is rather bold,” Gabriel agreed, rubbing his chin, and Marinette’s shoulders stiffened.

“This industry is about taking risks and being bold,” she said, flipping the cover of her sketchbook. “I know that it’s asking a lot, but this is the statement I want to make.”

Audrey glanced out of the corner of her eye before turning to face her, removing her sunglasses slowly. She and Gabriel stood up in unison, moving around the table to get a better look. Beside them, Marinette clasped her hands together tightly, heart beating a thousand times a minute.

Adrien placed a reassuring hand on her back, and Chloe quirked a brow on her other side as Audrey turned the page with a gasp.

“Ohh,” she cooed, examining each design. “Magnificent. Utterly magnificent!”

“Oh, that’s creative,” Gabriel remarked about the next one, and Audrey flicked her gaze back up to Marinette.

“Okay,” she sighed. “Normally, I’d turn down a concept like this, but with designs like these, I can see this going somewhere, so…I will back you.”

“Thank you, Mme. Bourgeois! Thank you! Thank you!” Marinette bowed as Audrey flipped another page.

“What is this black smudge?” She asked, and Marinette curled her shoulders.

“Mascara. It was a rough week,” she explained sheepishly.

“Ah, the creative process.” Gabriel nodded in understanding as Audrey took pictures of each page.

“Jean, send these to our tailors,” Audrey demanded, passing him her phone, “and pick up some water-proof mascara for Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

“Yes, madame,” he said with a bow, and Audrey hugged the sketchpad to her chest.

“I could look at these all night,” she sighed. “I think I’d like to have dessert on the terrace. Sinclair!”

“I look forward to seeing your first line, Marinette,” Gabriel said, casting her a smirk. “Excellent work.”

Marinette’s cheeks flushed as everyone followed after Audrey, but Adrien remained by her side.

“I’m going to walk Marinette out, father,” he said, and Gabriel gave a permissive nod.

As they entered the elevator, Marinette breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing her shoulders, and Adrien hit the button for the lobby. A smile broke over her lips as the doors closed, but before she could open her mouth to speak, Adrien grabbed onto her waist and pulled her lips to his.

His other hand cupped her jaw, lips parting into hers as he pulled her in closer. She wrapped her arms around his neck, stretching on her tip toes as he kissed her dizzy, and when they pulled away, their ragged breaths burned hot on each other’s lips.

“I knew you could do it,” he said breathlessly, a wide smile stretching up to his eyes. “You’re amazing.”

He touched his lips to hers again, holding her tight, and she melted into his embrace with a moan, resting her head on his shoulder when he pulled away.

“I did it,” she said, blinking in disbelief. “I actually did it.”

“With a day to spare no less,” Adrien chuckled. “You really are incredible, Marinette.”

“You were the one who never gave up on me,” she said, biting her lip, and Adrien pressed his forehead to hers.

“You ready to stop Lila?” He asked, and Marinette smirked.

“I’m ready to change the world.”

#miraculous ladybug #mdcsp original #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #adrinette #mdcsp #my writing

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ilchohand · 4 years ago

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Ichidai San vs Seidou: Koshien Aftereffects

@ Anon-san, here's the essay haha!

I've officially watched the Ichidai San vs Seidou match for the fourth time last night. My adrenaline was so high, I couldn't sleep until 3am that I ended up wanting to unleash all these feelings for this show.

Daiya, Act II ep 13

And I kid you not. I'm writing 'bout everyone in Seidou.

Coach Kataoka & Ochiai

Let's start with Boss. I'd like to reiterate that he always had high hopes for Eijun.

Daiya, Act I ep 5

He placed Eijun in the first string even when the boy was still shit with his form, his control, and zero baseball knowledge. Even Osaka Kiryuu's coach implied that it's actually Eijun who is Kataoka's secret weapon.

I remember him even letting Eijun pitch against Raichi during the batter's next at-bat against Eijun. That was cleary a sign that he was starting to trust Eijun. But clearly Eijun wasn't still good enough back then. Kataoka knew of Eijun's potential, it's just that he didn't expect him to grow soooo fast. Eijun was bound to get there someday, but not this soon. However, seeing Furuya's pitching in Koshien, he too was blinded by it since he was desperate for a real ace with an impact. Of course you'd wanna parade your pitcher like that. This is where Ochiai enters the picture. (If you've ever felt personally victimized by Ochiai, please raise your hand! ✋) Kidding. Ochiai was shit during his introduction. It took a long time to warm up to him, but he was an essential addition to the coaching staff. Kataoka, although tough is more of a feeling kind of coach. While Ochiai takes information at face value. Clearly in the Ichidai game, Ochiai was the one who was practical even suggesting that Eijun's pitching is more effective (even though he likes Furuya as a pitcher more). Kataoka was blind, and it was glaring. Why? You see the other teams were watching. And every single coach of the teams Seidou played against with is wary of Sawamura- even Inashiro's Coach Kunitomo. Eijun is the kid who rallied Seidou to one out away into reaching Summer Koshien- during his first freaking year.

This is why I really like it when Ochiai said Kataoka is human afterall. I guess Kataoka also has some growing up to do.

I'd like to add that these two coaches were blinded by the Koshien performance that they didn't even notice that Furuya's form was crumbling. Quoting these reddit posts, the coaching staff was purely after results. If it's not broken, don't try to fix it. We all gotta say thank you to baseball jesus, Chris-senpai, for we won't be having this problem with Eijun.

Furuya

Contrary to people saying Furuya became selfish, I feel like he actually knew what his role is and the expectations from him. He never once lost the goal to win Nationals. It's just that, he didn't know how to actually do it. He was chasing his best performance. He didn't want to be Japan's #1 pitcher for the title you know. He wanted to be the top pitcher to bring his team to the top.

Let's accept it. Despite being a monster rookie, he shouldered the ace number prematurely. Of course the weight of it would one day catch up to him. This is why the phrase 'There are no shortcuts.' keeps being reiterated in the story. I felt bad for Furuya so much. This phase of his baseball life is pretty parallel to Eijun's yips arc.

Eijun

How do I even start with our ball of sunshine? He really puts relief in 'relief pitching'. Such a refreshing player. Woah, like Sanada Shunpei. Yes we know that an ace carries the whole team, we know that an ace saves the team during a pinch, and an ace uplifts the overall mood. Already sounds like Eijun right? We know the role of an ace and how an ace should perform towards the team. What the Ichidai San match highlighted is how a team, in response, acts towards the ace. Trust. It really slapped me in the face the same way it frustrated Eijun. The extreme difference in trust given to an ace versus a relief pitcher.

This was the turning point for Eijun. Probably why I love rewatching it despite the angst. (For a more painful experience, try rewatching the episode before the Ichidai San match 🤭🔪🦝) Anyway, during that scene where Kataoka was dumbstruck with Eijun's top tier pitching I kept remembering that one quote from HQ by the U19 coach--

"We don't look for them, but that doesn't matter. They come to us with solid, undeniable strength and they make us choose them."

Literally screams SAWAMURA EIJUN!!!

Miyuki Kazuya

Where should I stab him? (Ya'll stop taking me seriously when I say stab okay?) I've been saying this all the time but our personality is the same. It's nasty. I love him and hate him at the same time okay?

Anyway, I hope we're all aware and agree that Miyuki also saw Eijun's potential from day 1. Sakuhin shit right there. Miyuki likes interesting people or happenings. This guy played catch with noob Eijun during his day-off! Offered, in fact. (Act 1, ep 5 during that intra squad game of 2nd/3rd yrs vs 1st yrs).

May I also add! Chris didn't like Eijun in the beginning. It was Miyuki who ended up covincing Chris to look at Eijun clearly and say "to a catcher, he's the most interesting kind of pitcher". However, this boy has his first string duties so it was understandable that he focused on Furuya for a while. But what's unacceptable is, during Ichidai's game, he was guilty of prioritizing Furuya over the game. This is 99% on Kataoka but 1% on Miyuki. Bitch you were losing and you couldn't even send distress signals to the coach. He trusted Furuya because of the Koshien performance and the ace number when a whole ass Sawamura Eijun exists. That's why he was quite guilty when Eijun dropped the 'trust' word on him during the switch.

And while I like that Eijun's performance during the Ichidai San match was eye opening to the catcher, I still haven't forgiven Miyuki for the day before the game when he 'ditched' or put Ei on the back burner. No, no. I'm not simply being a bitch about it because we know Miyuki's POV at that point. He needed to figure out what's wrong with Furuya and a match was looming. He didn't throw Eijun away, he just put him off a few hours. What I'm angry about is the way he put it to Eijun.

We all know Eijun is dying for some Miyuki acknowledgement. I'm pretty sure Miyuki is so unaware of this fact. Which brings me to the point. Miyuki is unaware of how his words come across to Eijun. How it impacts the little pitcher. That a simple jab to Eijun like "ace-sama wants to pitch" is a big sore spot. We see this later at night when Eijun keeps repeating, "Since I'm already put at the back burner!". Miyuki was being sarcastic about the ace-sama thing. But you see, Eijun is a big idiot. He takes everything at face value. Miyuki even brushes it off as they practice catch, "You're still angry about that?" he jokes.

And whooosh, everything's okay! Or is it?

You may say I'm being dramatic about it. But no. Here's why. During the Ichidai match, Eijun flashes back to two things. One, while on the bullpen frustrated that Furuya's messing up, he recalls the day before when Miyuki chose to catch for Furuya even though he promised to Eijun. (The other one, at his at-bat, he remembers when Kataoka didn't let him pitch the last inning.) So what seems to be a simple nasty joke to Miyuki is a sore spot to Eijun. I have observed this time and time again, but Eijun is quick to under value himself, and these jokes Miyuki pulls aren't helping. Recall that crippled Sawamura self deprecating joke he did, and him saying he was put in the back burner.

(Well anyway, Miyuki was praising Eijun in his mind the night before so I'm appeased. This is one of those TJ inconsistencies I hate, but okay, that's another post. ☹️)

Everything got better after the Ichidai game. Because as Eijun made Kataoka look at him properly. He also did the same to Miyuki. Eijun's performance just screamed, "I'm here. I'm ready!" It lit a fire to everyone in Seidou.

Fielders/Batters

I want to end my long ass post with a good one. I wanna highlight the team's performance during the Ichidai game.

While Furuya was pitching, I could go as far as say the fielder's were baby-ing him. They were so soft and encouraging because they knew Furuya when he is at his best and that it was off day during that time. The fielders were playing primarily to relieve Furuya's pressure.

In contrast, when Eijun was playing on the mound do you guys know how the batters felt? Kanemaru? Kuramochi? Utter frustration and hopelessness. And I was giddy as fuck when that happened. Because Eijun was performing his best, but they couldn't get any runs in response to his amazing pitching. It mothafuckin felt so good watching them feel powerless.

Don't you love this whole match? Obviously I do haha! If you guys ended up reading everything, then thank you! I really wrote this for myself because I was overwhelmed while rewatching it. 😅

#I PRINTED THE DRAFT OF THIS ON PAPER #THE THINGS I DO FOR DAIYA #I LOVE MY SUNSHINE BOI EIJUN SO MUCH #MIYUKI LOOKED SO TURNED ON DURING EIJUN'S FIRST PITCH DURING THE ICHIDAI GAME. DON'T LIE.#daiya no ace #sawamura eijun #miyuki kazuya #furuya satoru #kataoka #coach ochiai

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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816

Gonna do a before and after of one of the first surveys I took when I was FOURTEEN. Fucking wild that I’ve been doing this for nearly a decade. Kinda my way of celebrating the fact that I’ve just been reunited with my old blog, which Tumblr has apparently changed the URL of. Baffled by the move but still stoked, and @a-zebra-is-a-striped-horse is absolutely the coolest person for being able to find it haha. Let’s gooooo 1. Are you registered to vote? No. I still have 3 years to go. < That’s so precious. I’ve been a voter for four years now. I registered the second I turned 18 and I remember being very excited to make it to the presidential elections because only a handful of people from my high school batch were 18 by the time of the elections. 2. When days go by, do you cross them off on the calendar? Only when I’m counting down for something. < This still sounds like something I would do, but I don’t really get to anymore because I have digital calendars on my phone and laptop now. 3. Are you currently counting down to something? If so, what? Summer vacation! 4 days left! < Again, so cute. There’s no countdown that exists because I honestly don’t know when it will be okay enough to go out like normal again, but I am waiting for Covid to go away or at least for a vaccine to be available.

No #4? 5. Ever got injured at work? What happened? Nope. < I sprained my ankle at one of the parking lots in school, while walking to my car. Worst thing was it happened in front of an ongoing rally, and I heard their chants slightly falter when they saw me fall. I tried to play it cool, but my foot clearly felt fucked and someone had to hold my arm as I hopped to my car.

6. What color is your roof? Brown. < Stop pretending like you have a roof, Robyn. The house has always had a rooftop.

7. Do you use MySpace or Facebook more? Neither. < I was still far too young when MySpace peaked so I never did get to participate in its glory days. I definitely use Facebook a lot more, then and now. 8. Last time you sharpened a pencil? When I took a diagnostic test last Monday. < Sometime in 2019 when I was still heavily into coloring and I bought several coloring books and a pack of coloring pencils. I loved coloring and wish I kept it up, but it was just a bit of a hassle for me to sharpen every ten minutes or so. 9. List all the people in your phone under T: Zero, zilch, nada. No phone. < A high school batchmade named Dani, a college colleague named Kate, and a couple of aunts and uncles whose contacts start with Tito and Tita. 10. How old were you when you got into text messaging? I once had a super obsessive text problem when I was 11, I think? < That would be the first time I got hooked with texting, but I got my first phone when I was 7 and was already texting by then. Mostly my parents and grandpa, but still. 11. Do you pay rent to your parents? No. < No. They’ve already told me they won’t pressure me to do so either, but out of gratefulness for taking care of me for 20+ years I have absolutely no problems covering some of the bills when the time comes. 12. What do you think of Obama’s new healthcare bill? I don’t know a lot about it. < Honestly, still same. That’s another country’s politics altogether and we have enough issues in our own nation as it is. I do pay attention to US issues that are more universal like LGBT issues, police brutality against black people, Trump as a person...but not the more in-depth ones like healthcare or student debt. 13. How many icons are on your desktop? 34. < Exactly half of that. 14. Do you spit or swallow? Get outta here!!! < Still can’t relate. 15. Ever wrote something on a bathroom wall? Nope. < Eugh no, public bathrooms are so nasty. I don’t usually touch anything in them other than the faucet. I’ve written on other things though, like the desks in school. 16. What’s your definition of a slut? Uh. < Someone who often has casual sex with a lot of people, is how I understand it. 17. If you use the word “slut”, do you apply it to men who do the same thing as what you listed above? Nah. < I don’t really use the word. 18. Do you dye eggs for Easter? I did once, in a children’s party. < Yeah, just that one time at my second cousins’ place when they were in the mood to paint on eggs and invited me and my siblings. 19. What did you do on the first day of spring? Never experienced spring. < We don’t have spring. 23. Are you currently crushing on anyone? No. < Yes. 24. What color hair did the last person you kissed have? NKSB. < LOOOOOOOOOL I spent like two minutes puzzling over this like who tf is NKSB??? Eventually realized this just meant ‘Never Kissed Since Birth’ oh my god 14 year old Robyn you were SO uncool. Anyway, her hair is black. 25. Do you stand up to say the pledge in school? We don’t have a school pledge, but we do recite our country’s pledge and yes, we stand up every time we say it. < Not anymore in university. Everyone just kinda does their own thing in college and we’re never gathered as one student body for anything, except for graduation. 26. Do you like your eye color? God no. It’s so boring. < I mean yeah it is a bit boring, but we kinda have no choice. Unless you go to West Asia which is nearing Europe as it is, nearly all Asians have brown eyes and black hair. 27. What brand of orange juice did you last drink? Zesto. < That’s the only brand of orange juice I’m okay with drinking, even eight years later. 28. Pens or pencils? Pens. < Still feel the same. 29. Last skirt you wore and why? My school skirt, because I have to go to school. < Omfg again, this is so precious. The last one I wore was my denim skirt, but it’s also been a while since I wore that because one of its buttons has since popped out and I never got around to having it fixed, leaving me with no skirts. 30. Last time you wore heels, what kind were they? A prom I went to. I actually have no idea what kind of heels they are so I’m just gonna say old-women heels. < They were stilettos, you dumbass. I also wore a pair of stilettos the last time I wore heels. They’re my favorite kind, so. 31. Shoes you wear the most? My Keds. < My pair of Onitsuka Tiger sneakers. . 32. Favorite quote at the moment? “YOU DUMB BITCH! I’M NOT HOLDING A MICROPHONE! ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?” - CM Punk < Holy crap, I do not remember this quote at all and had to look it up on YouTube and – no regrets. Watching it made so many memories come rushing back lmao that clip is hilarious; Punk is the greatest. Right now I don’t really have a favorite quote. 33. What was the last magazine article you read about? I forgot. < It’s from the website version of the magazine, but the last article I read covered a viral Facebook post wherein someone had photoshopped the faces of The Big Bang Theory boys onto the traditional graduation photos of my university out of boredom. Article is here for anyone who wants to see how well the pictures turned out lol. 34. What do you think about communism? I don’t know enough about it. < I completely support the progressive youth orgs, especially the ones in my university, that are aligned with communist, socialist, and Marxist ideals. They speak the truth more than any other orgs, so I don’t shy away from defending them or promoting their ideals, especially on social media, even if it puts me in danger. 35. Are you planning on going to college? If so, which one? Of course. I want to study in Ateneo. < CAN WE CANCEL 14 YEAR OLD ROBYN?????? What a disappointment omg. You were always meant to be in UP, you weirdo. 22 year old me takes that appalling statement back lol I can’t even begin to imagine spending my college years in Ateneo. 36. What’s your favorite flower? Ugh I hate flowers. < Peonies and roses. 37. What’s the nearest beach? I think it’s like…600 km away + a 2 hour boat ride. < No it is not. There’s a beach I come back to in Nasugbu and that’s only 100 km away. 38. Ever been to Florida? Nope. < Still nope. 39. How old is your brother’s best friend? He’s probably 9 as my brother’s 9. < I don’t know if he has one and I don’t really care anymore. 40. What type of car did you ride in last? A Kia van. < Sksksksks this was referring to the school bus I used to ride omg :( I was last in our Vitara, when I had to go to the hospital to get some tests done back when I still had a pesky fever. 42. Are you excited for summer 2013? Fuck yeah. < I honestly don’t remember how it ultimately went, but apparently I was excited for it so that answers the question. 43. What class were your parents (ex. class of ‘75)? They’re the same age so batch ‘89. < There we go. 44. Are you in debt right now? For what? No. < Kinda-ish? I promised my sister I’d pay her for helping me out with iMovie (I wanted to make Gab a video for her birthday, but had never done it before), but I haven’t had the chance to do it since I only have big bills at the moment. She’s asking for ₱200 but I only have ₱1000s in my wallet, so I can’t pay her for now. 45. If you’re old enough, do you have a credit card? If you’re not old enough, do you want one when you’re older? I definitely want one. < Yep, still want one. Though I’ll need a crash course on how to use it because my parents never really taught me how cards work. 46. What color is your phone? No phone. < Apple calls it space gray but it’s really just black. 47. Have you ever had someone read a text message they weren’t supposed to see? Yes. < Yes. That person was me, and I accidentally read a text from my dad meant for only my mom when I was 5 because I had stubborn fingers that would click on anything. 48. What’s the minimum age you think someone should have a cell phone at? 10. < Holy cow, that’s a nope for me. I’d say 12 or 13. 49. Would you ever work night crew? Sure. < Yes. I’ve seen my girlfriend’s mom do it and honestly I find it pretty badass, especially because while everyone is stuck in traffic trying to get to work by 9 AM, she’s cruising down the highway on the opposite lane with no problem, to be home by 9 hahaha. 50. How old is the last person you texted? 41. < 22.

#survey #surveys

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calligraphist-artemisia · 5 years ago

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Across Time and Space (Chapter 14)

Summary: Sequel to I’ll Take Her Place. Slav is showing off a piece of experimental equipment, when it malfunctions and blasts Katie and Keithir to another universe. At the same time, it drags Pidge and Keith over into theirs, effectively swapping places. With their fate resting in the hands of Slav, will they be able to get back home? Or are they stuck to live the rest of their lives in the wrong universe?

Also posted on AO3 and fanfiction.net under the username “kishirokitsune”.

I would say, “Here’s the final chapter”, but actually there is one more little chapter after this one. (Which will be posted in a few days.)

This is the last chapter to vote in the poll on what I’ll write next, and I’ll be closing it down the day I post the final chapter. ( https://forms.gle/cMMRtt9U7whewbdn9 )

Chapter 14

Keith didn't remember going to bed, but that was where he woke up, still dressed in the clothing given to him by the other Allura. He sat up and stretched, before glancing at the clock on his bedside table, curious to see how much time had passed.

“Lunchtime,” he said to himself at the same time as his stomach growled. He swung himself out of bed, surprised that a few hours of sleep had been enough to replenish the energy sapped by their journey home, and set off to check on Pidge.

Maybe it wasn't so weird. He was knocked out by the first trip and there was no telling how long that lasted. Or maybe it was because he was unconscious the first time that he didn't need to sleep.

Pidge would know the answer better than he did.

She answered her door, looking more awake than he expected, still wearing the cute dress and boots. She looked surprised to see him, but quickly recovered.

“I've been trying to think of a good way to tell the others about everything, but honestly? I... I don't know,” Pidge admitted, jumping straight into their biggest dilemma. “I thought we'd come home and everything would fall into place, but now that we're here it's even harder. I can't even look at him!”

Alarmed, Keith gently backed her into her room so they would have more privacy to talk. Just because he didn't see anyone else around, didn't mean there was no one there.

“I know what you mean. Every time I look at him, all I can think about is Shiro, all alone and not knowing if he'll ever get out. How many missions have been compromised because of him? How many lives put in danger?” Keith clenched his hands, staring hard at a spot on the floor.

“Keith...” Pidge slowly took his hand, keeping her movements simple. “I'm sorry. I just got so anxious thinking about it all. This isn't something we've had to deal with more and I'm not sure what to do, but I meant it when I said we'd figured this out.” She paused and took a deep breath, continuing to hold his hand. “We need to take this step-by-step. So first, we need to tell the others.”

“We'll need someone to distract... Shiro so he doesn't overhear,” Keith said, struggling to call the impostor by Shiro's name. He needed to though, so he wouldn't raise suspicion when they needed to talk to him.

Pidge nodded. “It'll have to be someone who makes sense. Someone who doesn't need to be told what's going on yet. So we start with who needs to know. Allura, obviously.”

“The rest of the team. Hunk, Lance, and Coran should all know what's going on. Kolivan should probably be told why we're taking a step away from the war,” Keith said.

“Matt can do it.”

“Are you sure? My dad could also...” Keith trailed off as Pidge shook her head.

“Matt just makes the best sense, so he distracts him while we tell the others. What then? It's too risky to let him know about Oriande, but he'll ask questions if we take off for an unknown location.”

“I've been thinking about that,” Keith said slowly. “Once we're done talking to the others, we should see what happens when we detach his arm. If he lets us near it.”

“You mean if he lets me near it,” Pidge corrected.

Keith frowned, hating the idea of putting her directly in danger, but what were their options? If not Pidge, then it'd have to be Hunk or maybe Allura. Hunk didn't need to be put under that kind of pressure; it'd be too much for him to handle all at once. And they couldn't take the risk of Allura getting hurt.

It had to be Pidge.

She squeezed his hand. “You'll be there with me, right? Just in case?”

“Every step of the way,” Keith promised, meaning it with all of his heart.

Gathering everyone together for a meeting was the easy part. As was asking Matt to distract Shiro for them. Convincing them that it was best if they didn't wait for Shiro to arrive? That was the hard part.

They wasted precious minutes trying to convince them that they didn't need to wait for Shiro, and then finally Keith was able to explain what he learned during his visit to the Astral Plane. Pidge helped calm things down after the initial explosion of surprise and once Keith was finished, she helped detail their plan.

“This is insane!” Lance exclaimed. “Shiro isn't really Shiro, he's some kind of... clone? Or whatever?”

“I'm not lying,” Keith snapped.

“And if you hadn't seen him for yourself, you would find this hard to believe as well,” Allura pointed out. “It's not that we don't trust that you're telling the truth, it's just difficult to wrap our minds around it. Can we be sure that he means to do us harm?”

Pidge crossed her arms over her chest. “Why else would the Galra clone him?”

Allura didn't have an answer to that.

“If we remove his arm, we'll know for sure what we're dealing with. Either it'll free his clone from Galra control, or...” Pidge hesitated. “Or it could be what houses Shiro's memories and he'll just... collapse. Like an empty shell.”

“In that case, we'll need a cryo-pod on standby. Though I have to admit, I'm curious as to how we'll get Shiro back into his body. Can the Black Lion do something like that?” Coran asked.

“Actually, that's where Allura comes in,” Keith said, looking to Pidge for help.

Pidge glanced over at him and nodded, before reaching into her pocket and taking out a smooth stone. She held it out for Allura to take. “This is from the other Allura,” she said, purposefully omitting Honerva's name. “She called it a compass stone and told us it's the key to something called Oriande.”

Allura frowned as she accepted the stone. “But it's only a legend; A bedtime story my father used to tell me. It doesn't actually exist.”

Coran leaned over for a better look, his expression one of awe. “Perhaps there's more truth to it than we thought.”

“But how will it help? Oriande is said to be the birthplace of Altean alchemy, not... I'm not sure what to call this. Soul transference?” Allura ran her hand over the stone, which began to glow beneath her touch. She gasped in surprise, lifting it out away from her as a star map shimmered into view, surrounding her to show an area of space none of them were familiar with.

“That's the Patrulian Zone,” Kolivan spoke up. He went on to explain before anyone could ask what or where that was. “It's classified as a highly dangerous area of space. No ship that has ever ventured there has been able to return.”

“Like the Bermuda Triangle?” Lance asked.

“What is the Bermuda Triangle?”

“Yes, that's basically what it is,” Pidge said, intervening before the entire conversation could be derailed. “Look, the other Allura said it will allow you to set things right with Shiro and I believe her. She also has another message: Take someone you trust, with all of your heart.”

“Someone I trust,” Allura mused with a frown.

Pidge nodded. “The way it sounds is that only you and one another can go in safely. The rest of us will have to stay back and wait for you.”

Keith stayed quiet, ready to back up Pidge if there was any disagreement on how to proceed, but no one seemed to have an argument against going to Oriande, or even against removing Shiro's prosthetic arm. There was still more to work out, but the hardest part – telling them about Shiro – was behind them.

He breathed in, his anxiety lessening.

Everything was going to be okay.

It was honestly bizarre, being around the clone and knowing he wasn't really Shiro. His mannerisms, his smile when he made a joke that he found funny or clever, the fondness in his voice when he greeted them – it was all the same.

No wonder they hadn't noticed.

It made what they were doing even harder. Keith wasn't sure he'd ever be able to look at Shiro again without feeling some form of guilt, but it had to be done. They had to be sure.

He was a little in awe of Pidge as he watched her act excited about taking off the clone's arm. She babbled on about learning stuff in the other reality and “wouldn't it be great to have an arm not made by an evil empire?” as she guided him to a chair.

“I suppose it would be nice,” Shiro agreed, though there was some confusion in his voice. “Are you sure it's a good idea? I mean, it has been useful to us and you and Hunk have both confirmed that it's safe for me to use.”

“Except that having it may have been what caused you to get captured by the Galra a second time. If I remove it, I'll be able to run a deep scan and you won't have to sit still until it's done. There could be more secrets, like the hidden coordinates that Ulaz left, and this is how we'll find out,” Pidge argued pleasantly. “If you really want to keep it, I'll give it back once I'm done.”

Shiro nodded as he got comfortable in the chair. “I have grown a little fond of it.”

Keith walked over to stand by the clone, ready to play his role of the supportive friend. If anything went sideways, it left him in prime position to respond. “Will it hurt?”

Pidge glanced up at him. “I'm not sure. We never did determine whether its connected through nerve endings or through some kind of quintessence-based neural link, but detaching it shouldn't cause pain. Reconnecting it... well, that may be a different story. Ready, Shiro?”

Shiro gave one short nod. “I'm ready.”

Keith unintentionally held his breath, watching as Pidge opened the panel on Shiro's upper arm. She took a moment to look it over and then cautiously began the process of releasing the connections, glancing up to Shiro's face for any sign of discomfort after each one.

“Still okay?” she asked.

“Feels strange, but it doesn't hurt.”

“Good.”

Pidge carried on with her work, slow and methodical, and just when Keith started to think they were in the clear, Shiro's face went slack, his eyes unfocused.

Keith moved purely on instinct, shoving Pidge away in the nick of time. He unsheathed his blade and lifted it to block Shiro's hand as he reached for Pidge. They clashed, rough and violent, and Keith trembled as he used all of his strength to try and shove Shiro away. His stomach twisted, unnerved by the malevolence in the clone's eyes.

“Shiro, you don't want to do this!” he yelled, hoping there was some part of the clone – the part who truly believed he was Shiro – who could still hear him.

“You're wrong,” growled the clone. “I've wanted to do this for a long time. Did you really think I enjoyed being around you? Why do you think we let you go running off with the Blade of Marmora? None of us wanted you here.”

Keith faltered, the words biting into his carefully crafted armor.

The clone bore down on him, easily taking advantage of the opening left for him. “We were glad to see you leave.”

“Keith.” Pidge's voice was quiet and fearful, but the reminder that she was behind him, relying on him to help set things right, gave him the strength to push back.

He could remember the tears in her eyes that day. The surprising sadness in Lance's voice. Hunk sobbing as he went in for a hug. Allura's concerned gaze. Coran, making no effort to conceal his emotions. And he knew it wasn't really Shiro, but he'd still checked in and supported him the way the real one always had.

The clone was lying.

The others did want him around.

His dad traveled from another reality because he wanted to be there for him! And Lance never pulled any punches when it came to his feelings (particularly in regards to Keith), so when he spoke of missing him, it was the truth.

“...anyone would be lucky to have you as their roommate. Seriously, Keith. I wasn't lying when I said this has been fun.”

Keith grit his teeth, straining to keep the clone's glowing hand away from his skin. “The real Shiro would never say something like that. A thought like that would never even cross his mind! And that's why I know, you're nothing more than a shallow imitation.”

The clone snarled and threw a punch with his left hand, knocking Keith aside before descending on Pidge, who scurried backwards in fright. Keith rolled to his feet, fully prepared to dive in and clash with the clone again to protect Pidge, but she surprised him by changing course, spinning to her feet and dashing forward. She dropped into a slide and as she raised one hand towards the clone's open chest, Keith realized she had her bayard.

The clone went down with an agonized shout and Keith swiftly pinned him to the floor, making sure to give Pidge ample space to get to the prosthetic arm and finish her task. Within seconds, there was a heavy clunk as the arm popped free of its socket and fell to the floor.

The clone's body went still.

Pidge's hands trembled as she lowered them to her lap, her bayard discarded next to her. Keith hastened to her side and pulled her into his arms.

“I... I can't believe...”

“You did what you needed to. We both did,” Keith reminded her. “Now we keep going with our plan. Shiro is counting on us.”

“You're right,” Pidge murmured, closing her eyes and resting her head on Keith's shoulder. “Those things he said to you... they aren't true. We all missed you.”

“I missed you guys too.”

Nothing more needed to be said.

ALTEA – CASTLE OF LIONS

Katie almost expected to be swept up into a Welcome Back party the moment she and Keithir returned, but the small group waiting for them was even better, especially considering the exhaustion that overtook them both. Even in the hours after, the most that was mentioned was a big family dinner once they were settled back in.

Before then, there was one important matter they needed to settle.

Ulaz hugged them when they arrived at his medical station. “It's good to see you both. I suppose you're here to make sure your journey did not cause any adverse effects?”

“It is something we're worried about,” Katie agreed, leaning back against Keithir for comfort.

Ulaz hummed in understanding and stepped away to gather the proper tools. It didn't take but a few ticks, as he'd prepared ahead of time for their visit. “Take a seat, Katie.”

He took her blood first, a tiny pinprick which barely hurt, and slotted it into a nearby machine to let it run its tests. Then, with a biometric wand scanner, checked her over from head to toe, focusing the longest over her middle.

Ulaz let her up while he checked over the diagnostics. “You're all clear. There's nothing I see that causes any concern, though you have lost a small amount of weight. How is your nausea?”

“Off and on,” Katie said with a shrug. “I'm still figuring out what's okay to eat and what smells trigger it the worst, but I can still keep down most food.”

“Not food goo,” Keithir teased.

Katie looked a little pale by the mere mention of it. “Coran isn't helping with dinner plans, is he? I'd rather not have everyone find out by puking at the sight of one of his concoctions.”

“That would be a question for Hunk and your mother. They are running the kitchen tonight,” Ulaz responded, gesturing for Keithir to take a seat next. “Any thoughts to how you will tell everyone?”

“A few. Right now we're still deciding on who to tell first. Our parents and Thace, of course, but Shiro will want a reason for why I can't go on any dangerous missions for a while,” Katie said.”It's just... it's a little early right now. I'm barely two months along.”

Ulaz didn't look up from his work. “Your cub is strong, Katie. I do not see any reason you should worry, but I will respect your caution and will continue to keep it a secret until you are ready.”

“Thank you, Ulaz,” Katie said, grateful for his support.

Ulaz inclined his head and then gave Keithir the all-clear as well, announcing with a smile that they were in perfect health.

From there, they went off to find Sendak, both eager to see Yorak and hold him in their arms once again.

OLKARION – CASTLE OF LIONS

“I can't believe he's been a clone the whole time,” Matt said, staring at Shiro's body in the cryo-pod. He could almost pretend that his friend was sleeping and not an empty shell. “Do you really think Allura can do it? Put him back into his body? Or this new body?”

“She's the only one who can,” Keith said from where he sat.

Pidge nodded in agreement. “The other Allura sounded sure that going to Oriande will give her the ability she needs to help Shiro, and I believe her. She wouldn't lie about that.”

“I still can't believe they're married in the other life,” Keith remarked.

Matt's gaze snapped to Keith, his jaw dropping in shock. “Wait, what?”

“It was a little surreal seeing the lives our alternate selves lead,” Pidge admitted, ignoring Matt's question. “I wish I'd asked them more about it, but we were so worried about getting back... I know mom and dad moved to Altea as part of some kind of Earth-Altea transfer program. You too, Matt. Mom had all kinds of new plants to study and talk about and I think you and dad were working on integrating Altean tech into Earth ships? I didn't catch much, except that the Galaxy Garrison's space exploration program has tripled in size and they can make it out to Kerberos in about a week instead of three months.”

“Wow,” Matt said, sounding dazed.

Pidge sobered up a little. “Speaking of dad, did you find anything while I was gone? Were there any bases or ships carrying intel on prisoners?”

Matt shook his head. “Nothing on that front, but I did get a lead that I need to tell you about. Katie told me that in her reality, Lotor was the one who held us captive, and she figured that he would know the most likely place he's being held.”

“Did he know?” Pidge asked, sitting up in interest.

“He gave me the name and location of a base and I passed that along to Kolivan to see if he knew anything about it. He's had Kr- one of the others help him look into it. I didn't want to say anything, because I don't know how much trust there is to it or if dad's even there. But if he is... I mean, I know this Oriande thing is really important, and I'd love to be there when Shiro wakes up, but if dad really is there, then I have to go.”

“And I'd have to choose...” Pidge murmured.

Silence permeated the air.

“Pidge, it's your choice,” Keith said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “All of us would understand if you want to go save your dad, and that includes Shiro. Do what you think is right for you.”

It was such a far cry from the start of their time together that Pidge couldn't help but tear up a little. He'd come a long way from the lonely boy who rode in on a red hoverbike to rescue his only friend.

How easy would it be, to go off with Matt and stage a rescue the way she'd dreamed of doing for so long?

The fact remained, she was being asked to choose between the two most important, most influential men in her life.

She needed a workaround. A way to look at the problem presented to her in a different way. There had to be something that would help her find the answer. Her dad or Shiro?

No, that wasn't the right question.

Who needed her there?

Her team, heading into unknown and dangerous territory?

Or Matt, backed up by a team of rebels and information cleared by the Blade of Marmora?

When she looked at it like that, the answer was clear.

Allura personally piloted the Castle of Lions into the Patrulian Zone, using the time to think about everything that happened in the course of one quintant. The most important thing was that Keith and Pidge made it back, and while the addition of Travis to the team was a surprise, it was a welcome one. (She tried not to get too jealous of Keith getting a second chance with his father, but those bitter thoughts kept creeping in.)

She breathed in deeply, checking the starmap, and slightly adjusted course. The Castle's sensors were picking up on a strange energy signature somewhere in the center of the zone, which Coran agreed was where they needed to go.

There was one other problem Allura had, and that was her lack of answer to the question: who would go with her to Oriande?

Her instructions were to pick someone she trusted, but how could she choose when she trusted each of the paladins? There had to be something more. Something she was missing. Had Pidge relayed the message word-for-word, or had she paraphrased?

“Take someone you trust,” she murmured to herself. Her gaze drifted to Coran, who busied himself at the center control, monitoring the ship and keeping an eye out for any more unusual readings.

She certainly trusted Coran. He was her father's oldest friend and had a large role in helping raise her. While his ideas were a little outrageous at times, there was no one else she relied on more.

If Shiro were an option, her decision would be made. As the leader of Voltron, he made the most sense, and aside from their brief hiccup at the start, they made a fantastic team. There were so many reasons why she trusted and looked up to him, but his sheer compassion for everyone was at the top of that list.

But Shiro wasn't an option. He was the reason she was going to Oriande.

Which left Keith as the current Black Paladin and leader of the team. While it was great to have him back and she knew she could count on him no matter what came their way, he didn't feel like the right fit for Oriande.

Perhaps Pidge, who would appreciate a trip in pursuit of knowledge, was a better choice? Hunk had also expressed interest in learning more about Altean culture, though his was more in regards to cuisine. She was hesitant to say either was the perfect choice.

Never in her wildest dreams did she ever imagine a day when she would consider going on a mission with just Lance, but there she was, contemplating exactly that. He'd become a true friend, unafraid to speak his mind (whereas Hunk often hesitated in fear of making anyone upset), but without the unthinking heat which often came from Pidge and Keith.

If the past movement had proven anything, it was that Lance was someone she could rely on. Someone she could be herself around without fear of judgement. Someone she genuinely enjoyed spending time with.

(And hadn't she entertained the idea of teaching him more about Altea?)

But was going to Oriande something he wanted to do?

None of them knew what to expect or why the other Allura said to only take one person with her. Would he be tested as well? Was there a test? She assumed there was, otherwise anyone could get in and learn the secrets.

What if she wasn't worthy?

“Uh, princess? We may have a slight problem,” Coran spoke up.

Allura snapped out of her thoughts, lowering her hands to slow the Castle. She was about to ask what was wrong, but words failed her as she saw exactly what had Coran worried.

A massive white hole loomed in the distance and around it, the bodies of numerous destroyed ships.

She eased the Castle to a stop, not wanting to get any closer or else risk them suffering the same fate. “I don't understand... Coran, are you sure we have the correct coordinates?”

“Yes, princess. The precise point in space that the compass stone pointed to is there, in the very center,” Coran said. He turned to her, worry in his eyes. “I could take another look, but there's something we have to consider – Oriande may not exist in our reality. Maybe it did once, but the existence of this white hole likely means it was destroyed long ago.”

Allura shook her head. “No, I refuse to believe that. I owe it to Shiro to try everything I can.”

“But, princess-”

“I'm calling the others to the bridge,” Allura interrupted. “We'll decide what to do together.”

That was what Shiro would want. A team decision.

She calmly made the call, asking everyone still on board the Castle to report to the bridge.

She had made her decision.

“Take someone you trust, with all of your heart.”

Waiting for Allura and Lance to return was one of the top five most nerve wracking moments of his life, just after Krolia's entire pregnancy with Keith. (Which had less to do with Krolia herself and everything to do with the panic of raising a half-alien child on a planet of people who would react with scorn and panic if they found out there really was intelligent life beyond their solar system.)

All contact with Allura and Lance was lost the moment they got near the white hole. Neither had sounded panicked leading up to that, so they had to trust that they were still alright.

Coran paced the bridge, pausing frequently to check for the faintest readings. He didn't speak and no one tried to start a conversation with him, each dealing with the situation in their own way.

Hunk sat and fidgeted with an old piece of Altean tech, either trying to figure out what it did or just using it as something to occupy his attention.

Pidge was at her station and had two screens pulled up to monitor. One was for communication with Matt and the other was set to help Coran scan for their missing teammates.

Keith had no distractions. He sat and did his best to find something even vaguely productive to do, but after a few minutes he leaned back to stare at the ceiling.

All Travis could do was stand quietly by.

Well, that wasn't true. There was one thing he could do, but that would mean disturbing the delicate tension of the bridge, and he wasn't entirely sure how Coran would react to that, as wound tight as he was.

Travis warred with himself for a few doboshes. It was something that needed to be said. Keith deserved to know his mother was alive and that she'd been on the Castle of Lions for a short while. He wanted his son to have time to prepare for meeting her instead of being dropped into it, which meant he'd have to tell him soon. Krolia had gone with Kolivan to help Matt and the rebels find Sam and would rejoin them once both missions were complete.

There would be too much excitement once Allura and Lance returned. Travis would have to take the chance while he had it.

He moved as quietly as he could, making his way over to Keith and tapping him on the shoulder. He gestured towards the door, and though it took Keith a moment to understand, he soon stood and followed his dad out into the hall, completely unaware of Pidge's curious gaze on his back.

“What's wrong?” Keith asked.

“There's somethin' I need to tell you about your ma,” Travis began awkwardly. There really was no easy way to say it, was there? “She's here, Keith.”

Keith looked startled. “Here? On the ship? I – but how? When?”

“She's with Kolivan on the prison break mission right now, but she'll be back. Not real sure how or when she got here. We haven't had much chance to catch up, everything's been happenin' so fast.” Travis paused, giving Keith time to process everything he was hearing. “I know you've got a lot goin' on right now, but we both figured it wouldn't be right to blindside you with this. It's up to you, when and if you wanna see her.”

“Of course I want to see her,” Keith said, his voice thick with emotion. “I just... Does she really want to see me?”

Travis nodded. “She does.”

He watched Keith take a moment to think, to compose himself and stand up straight, steeling his nerves so he could say what he needed to. His inner strength shone through, the resolve of someone ready to step up and take the lead.

“Okay. Once everything has calmed down – when we have Shiro and Pidge's dad back – then I want to meet her,” Keith said.

It was everything Travis could have hoped for.

“What happened to your hair?”

Lance nearly whined at the question, posed by Hunk the moment he and Allura stepped off of the Altean shuttle. He reached up and plucked at his newly white hair.

Allura quickly stopped him, taking his hand in her own and lowering it. “Your hair looks fine, Lance.”

“I'm more curious about the markings, to be honest,” Pidge said, peering closely at his face. “Is this a side effect of Altean magic?”

“Alchemy,” Allura corrected.

Keith stepped forward before anyone else could comment on Lance's change in appearance. “The important thing is, they're back safely. Do you think you can help Shiro?”

“Yes. I don't know how exactly, but I know I can do it. It's... difficult to explain,” Allura said.

“Your father used to say that a lot when he was building the Lions,” Coran said, smiling fondly at the memory. “There's no time to waste! I will bring the cryo-pod down to the Black Lion's hangar. It's time to bring Shiro home.”

Allura nodded and led the way as the team split up – Coran with Travis and Keith to help safely move Shiro's body, and Pidge, Hunk, and Lance with Allura.

“It actually is a good look for you.” Pidge tried to compliment Lance, but he pouted for most of the walk down, certain that he was being teased.

Hunk and Pidge tried to assure him that they were being sincere, but gave up after a few minutes and instead asked questions about what Oriande was like and what they'd learned while they were there. Allura did her best to answer, but fell short for most of them.

There were only so many ways to describe suddenly knowing something, without having actually learned it.

By the time they reached the hangar, Lance had relaxed enough to try and help Allura tell them about their trip, but soon encountered a similar problem when asked about his role in all of it.

“I don't really know,” he said with a shrug. “There was this old temple and statues that wanted to kill us, and also the ceiling that tried to crush us... Basically, everything there wanted us dead!”

“Everything was designed to test us,” Allura corrected, sounding amused by his descriptions.

“By trying to kill us,” Lance agreed and continued on. “And then we weren't in the temple at all anymore and there was this giant ghost lion who-”

“Wait, wait, let me guess,” Hunk playfully interrupted with a big grin on his face. “It wanted to kill you?”

Lance nodded emphatically. “I know you're just teasing me, but that's exactly what it tried to do!”

“Lance very heroically sacrificed himself to protect me,” Allura further explained, making him blush. “Every Altean who passes the trials and earns the blessings of the Ancients needs a Guardian – someone to stand by their side and help harness their new abilities and the knowledge gained. That's why the other me said I needed to take someone who I trusted with all of my heart.”

“That's so cool!” Pidge gushed.

“It's kind of like when we sit and bounce ideas back and forth,” Hunk said, looking to Pidge. “Neither of us hold all of the answers, but together we stand a chance.”

Allura smiled. “That's one way to look at it.”

The hangar doors slid open and everyone turned to look as Coran, Travis, and Keith maneuvered the hovering cryo-pod towards the Black Lion and set it down in front of her.

“We're ready whenever you are, princess,” Coran said. He waited near the keypad for her word, releasing it only once she and Lance were in position.

Allura closed her eyes and reached out with her mind for the answer to what she needed to do. Lance rested a hand on her shoulder, offering a steady presence to keep her grounded. He walked with her as she approached the Black Lion and placed her hand on the Lion's paw.

A purr rumbled through the hangar as the Black Lion's eyes lit up.

Allura began to glow with a soft white light, and soon after, Lance's blue markings did the same. They turned together, moving perfectly in step back to Shiro's body, where Allura placed her hands on his chest. The glow slowly faded from her, trickling instead into his body.

Everyone held their breath as she lifted her hands and then Shiro gasped in air and began to cough. She backed away into Lance's steady arms as Keith rushed in, shouting Shiro's name.

Shiro groaned as he opened his eyes, only for them to flutter shut against the harsh lighting. He turned his head and blinked a few times, trying to adjust. “Keith...?” he asked hoarsely.

“I'm here,” Keith said, relief soaking his voice.

“What happened to my arm?”

There was a momentarily pause where everyone feared he was suffering from memory loss, but Pidge quickly stepped forward to dissolve that fear.

“That was me,” she said, walking over to stand by Keith after a nudge and a pointed look from Hunk. “It was the only thing we could think of to do to keep the Galra from finding out what we were doing. Sorry, but it might be a while before you have another working one.”

Shiro turned his head to blearily peer up at them, managing a tiny smile. “I owe you both my thanks.”

“Allura did all of the hard work, transferring you back into your body,” Keith told him. “And Lance helped.”

“Thank you,” Shiro said, raising his voice as much as he could. Exhaustion coated his words and every action he took and he soon closed his eyes. “I guess getting pulled out of the Astral Plane and back into a body is more tiring than I thought.”

“We'll reset the pod for healing to make sure your recovery goes as smoothly as possible,” Allura reassured him. She nodded to Coran, who worked to do as she asked at once.

As Shiro slid into a deep, restful sleep, a sense of serenity began to fall over the inhabitants of the Castle of Lions. At last, everyone was right where they were supposed to be. The paladins were home.

Soon, they would have to return to the war and all of the problems associated with it, but for the moment they could exist in a bubble where everything was perfect. And once they did return, they could do so with renewed enthusiasm, ready to take on anything else the universe wanted to throw their way.

#Voltron #Kidge #Kidgemas #fanfiction #reality swap au

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